


Days Passing By

by a1y_puff



Series: and the days continue... [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Adorable dorks, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Boys Being Boys, Kanda is a pretty prick, Lenalee is amused, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a1y_puff/pseuds/a1y_puff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes one hot summer day, one quiet library and one irritating, pretty prick to begin the unforgettable days for Allen to keep. But then, no Summer lasts forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ephemeral Summer

**Author's Note:**

> First posted in for Yullen Week 2010. I am posting this here now because after a looong time, I am finally working on the final chapter. :") 
> 
> Oh, and I have fixed some stuff~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes one hot summer day, one quiet library and one irritating, pretty prick to begin the unforgettable days for Allen to keep. But then, no Summer lasts forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First posted for Yullen Week 2010.  
> Now with a [Russian Translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4016478) by [delila2110](http://delila2110.tumblr.com/) yay :D

 

The first time Allen had seen one Yuu Kanda had been at the town's library.

It had been one hot summer morning and Allen couldn't take being cooped up in his house without the air conditioning system or the TV to distract him anymore. The electricity bill hadn't been paid, so no electricity for them. And Cross was conveniently away to god knew where for god knew how long and—

Well. Allen didn't actually have a lot of money, so to the library he went.

The town library was quite big, with an extensive collection of books Allen wouldn't be able to compare with the ones in his school library. There were books from all over the world, some of it—a  _lot_  of it—was the private collection of the owner of said library. An old man that went by the name 'Bookman'. Allen had always wondered if it was some sort of a joke.

Entering the building, Allen was welcomed by the sudden rush of cool air from the air conditioning system, and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the cool breeze on his face. That was, at least, until someone called him.

"Allen, kid, don't stand in the doorway, please~!"

Coloring just a little, the white-haired boy turned to face the librarian and walked closer to the counter. "I'm not a  _kid,_ Lavi," he replied, putting on a frown that was definitely not a pout, no.

The redheaded librarian just grinned up at him, reaching out a hand to ruffle the strands of white hair. "Sure you aren't."

Allen huffed, but he didn't swat Lavi's hand away. "So," he started, "Any interesting books lately?" he asked, eyeing the book, whose title he couldn't even read, on Lavi's hand—what language was that anyway?

"Interesting..." Lavi hummed contemplatively, before his eyes light up. "Oh, I know! Go to the second floor," Lavi pointed to the general direction of the second floor that could be seen from there. "The third aisle from the back. It has many  _interesting_  books," and he grinned up just a little mischievously.

Allen raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. He said his thanks and went to the stairs to the appointed aisle.

Allen had no expectation of what kind of interesting books Lavi had meant, but surely it wasn't 'Natural Bust Enlargement with Total Mind Power'? _What the..._ Allen cringed, his mind automatically, against his will, went to Cross, for some reason. Well. Cross loved women with big boobs.

Shuddering a little, he walked deeper into the aisle. Dead Clients Don't Pay, Soldier Bear, History of Orgi— _ugh_. The English: Are They Human—"What?" Allen hissed, offended. Yes, he'd lived in America for quite a long time now, but he was proud of his English heritage.

Frowning, he glanced further up to see if there was anything good up there. His eyes then caught the title 'How to Survive a Robot Uprising'. Allen really, nearly snorted at that—had his mind not decided to remind him of Komui, Lenalee's brother who was a scientist somewhere and really, shouldn't be building robots. But he'd claimed that it was his passion—even if he spectacularly failed at robotics, in a way that his robots would always go out of control and—

Okay, so reading it probably wouldn't hurt, right? It was justto spend his time...right? And just—just in case Komui  _did_ manage to build a giant robot and then it went out of control... well.

So help him, Allen reached his hand up to said book, but the problem was...he couldn't reach it. He tried standing on his toes, stretching his arm as far as he could, but only the tip of his fingertips were able to touch the edge of the book.

So he tried jumping. First try, failed. Second try—almost there, but... failed. So he jumped, the third time, and managed to pull the thick book just a little out of the shelf, but not entirely. He grumbled under his breath and that was when he heard a snort coming from somewhere to his right.

Turning his head to the side, Allen found someone with long hair tied in a high ponytail—it was a  _guy_  right? The posture said so—and he was  _smirking._

"Tch. Bean sprout," the guy simply said, before walking past the aisle and disappearing somewhere.

Allen gaped, unattractively so, and by the time it had dawned on him that the  _prick_  had just called him a  _bean sprout_ , of all things, he went to the end of the aisle to see if the rude guy was still there, but—well, no one was there.

Scowling, Allen went back to the book and jumped, again, and this time, he managed to take the book out of its shelf. "Ha!" he said triumphantly.

With the book in hand, Allen went downstairs to find a desk for him to read, just in time to see that guy walking to the counter. Allen frowned and went closer.

"Hey," he said in an unfriendly manner, and he faltered just a little when the guy turned his head, because—okay, so he didn't only have long hair but his face was kind ofpretty, too. Said pretty guy raised a mocking eyebrow, then, and Allen scowled back, remembering what he had wanted to say, "I'm  _not_  a bean sprout."

But that guy merely stared at him as if he was  _stupid_ , before those deep, dark eyes traced down to the book in Allen's hand and...

He snorted. Again.

"Weirdo," said the long haired guy, before turning on his heels to bring his books to the counter for borrowing, leaving Allen to gape unattractively.

.

.

.

"I mean, how come someone could be such a—a— _prick_ to someone they just met?" the British youth ranted on to his best friend when he met up with her for lunch the next day, "Like, he didn't even know my name or—or—"

"Allen, Allen, calm down, your food is spewing out," Lenalee told him as she covered her mouth and frowned in mild disgust.

Allen looked down and chewed his food properly before managing a small, "Sorry."

"It's all right," the Chinese girl waved her hand dismissively. "But seriously, it could have been a classic, romantic meeting, you know, with you couldn't reach the book and him helping you instead of—"

"Calling me a  _bean sprout,_ " Allen grounded out as his face muscles formed a frown that ended up being a pout anyway. Then, he turned his head to his best friend and scowled. "Wait, that 'classic romantic meeting' you were talking about would require me being a  _girl._ "

"Yeah, well, you're as… _tall_  as one," Lenalee snickered, but she raised her hands in a placating manner when Allen pouted harder.

"If anyone should be the girl, it would be him with that girly hair. As long as he didn't open his mouth," the boy grumbled as he stabbed menacingly on a piece of sausage, "Such a pity for someone so pretty."

"Wow, Allen, that rhymed," Lenalee chuckled good-naturedly, before her mind caught up to something and—"Wait. Pretty?"

"Yes, I would at least admit that much," reluctant, yes, but admitting nonetheless, "He had this nice long hair, you know. Longer than yours before you hacked it off after one of your brother's robots went crazy."

The topic brought a frown to the girl's pretty face, though, and Allen instantly felt guilty.

"Sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Lenalee shook her head, strands of shoulder-length hair flying with the movement. "At least my brother finally admitted that his robots are dangerously  _stupid_  after that incident."

"He should have realized after Komurin V tried to cut my arm off," because that was way more dangerous rather than losing a few centimeters of hair, but Allen dared not say it out loud. Allen knew how much Lenalee _appreciated_  her hair... or any hair in general, really.

"Anyway," the girl started, sipping on her chocolate milkshake and twirling her hair with a finger, a habit she had regained after her hair grew long enough. "Bean sprouts are small, yes?"

That made Allen scowl. "I'm not—"

"And small things are usually cute," she went on, ignoring the half-annoyed, half-confused frown on her friend's face. "Maybe he was trying to say thatyou're cute."

A few moment of silence followed, before the younger teen snorted and shoved the spaghetti rolled around his fork into his mouth and chewed conspicuously. "Yeah, Lenalee," he began after swallowing the spaghetti, "There's just  _no way_."

.

.

.

No way, indeed.

Because when Allen accidentally met him again that weekend, that guy barely spared him a glance and instead he was so engrossed in a book—what was it about... conceptual art? There was a sketchbook lying on top of the table, a pencil and an eraser lay on top of the covers.

"Wouldn't have pegged you as someone who's into art," the comment was out before Allen could even stop it. Not that he would stop it, though. But.

The guy looked up, the frown that Allen was starting to suspect as a permanent feature still marring his (unfortunately) pretty face. "What do you want,  _bean sprout_?"

"I'm not a—" Allen paused, remembering Lenalee's words. He eyed Kanda suspiciously. "You're not...calling me cute, are you?"

And now Allen felt like an idiot for asking because the long haired male was eyeing him like he was crazy. "What the hell are you—"

"Right, of course not," Allen said hurriedly. See? _No way._ "Please don't mind me," Allen waved his free hand dismissively, while his other hand was holding a book on piano composition now—a totally  _sane_  book this time, thankfully—before taking a seat across of him.

"...the hell are you doing?" the deep baritone voice asked, and the white haired youth lifted his chrome eyes to meet those dark blue ones, and Allen raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to  _read_ , obviously."

"...and why the heck are you sitting there?"

"This seat is empty, isn't it?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then I don't see the problem," Allen replied easily, opening his book to a certain page and starting to read. He heard the Asian male grumble moodily but he quieted down, so Allen went back to his book.

Twenty pages and a few minutes of silence later, Allen looked back up to see the long-haired male still absorbed in his book. Well, now that Allen was paying attention from up-close, that guy sure was … pretty. No, pretty might not the word. Handsome, then? Beautiful—

"The hell are you looking at?"

The gruff tone cut Allen's train of thoughts, and the boy looked up to see those midnight eyes on him. Being caught staring  _was_  a little embarrassing, but, well.

"By the way, I'm Allen. And you are?" He introduced himself instead. After all, good manners dictated him to introduce himself first before inquiring after someone's name.

"None of your business," the reply was immediate.

Allen scowled. "Funny name, mister none-of-your-business. Although it is a rather long name, don't you think?" and now he was smiling that bright, fake smile.

"What the hell, you're one annoying bean sprout!"

"I'm  _not_  a bean sprout, you—you  _girly-haired_  prick—"

"Who are you calling  _girly_?"

"Well since I don't know your name, I might just consider referring you with girly."

"Yuu, his name is Yuu," said a new voice, and both boys turn their heads to find Lavi standing by their table, grinning.

"Yuu?" Allen tried, but—

" _Kanda_ ," 'Yuu' growled, and now Allen was frowning in confusion.

"So is it 'Yuu' or is it 'Kanda'?"

"Yuu—"

" _Kanda_."

And then Lavi and the pretty guy looked at each other—a glare versus a grin and—finally Lavi turned his head to Allen again. "His name is Yuu Kanda, but he doesn't like people using his first name, since it could be damn confusing," here, he turned to Kanda again, "Right, Yuu?"

A growl was his only answer.

"Anyway," Lavi grinned again, "Now that you guys have met each other, do me a favor and get along, okay? You guys are  _noisy_ ," he whispered the last sentence and enunciated it with a press of his index finger against his lips.

That was when Allen realized thatsome people on the nearby tables were actually looking at their direction, some frowning in annoyance, others smiling in amusement. Well, shit, they'd attracted some attention, hadn't they? "Sorry," Allen mumbled, looking down.

"It's fine," the redhead said fondly, ruffling Allen's hair with a hand, before turning to Kanda, "You too, be nice, 'kay?"

"Tch," Kanda responded  _eloquently_ , eyes going back to the book in hand.

With that, Lavi went back to the counter, leaving the boys to their own devices.

.

.

.

"And then?" Lenalee asked, watching as Allen went for his third dish in mild awe. Really, watching the boy eat never failed to amuse her. Nice to know Allen still had a healthy appetite even after she'd been gone for nearly two months since their last meeting.

"And then what? We finished our books and went home," Allen shrugged, biting on his chicken wing. "Nothing was said after that, so."

"Aww, that's boring," Lenalee shook her head lightly, "You got his name but you didn't talk to him after that?"

"Well," Allen started, sipping on his orange juice and looking up to Lenalee, "He was emitting this unfriendly aura so I refrained from saying anything."

"But you kept sitting there?" a tilt of her head, "Even though he clearly wanted to be left alone, why?"

"Because I like sitting by the window?" the boy offered but Lenalee didn't look like she believed him.

"Sure, Allen, sure," and then she was  _smiling._  Allen didn't know what she was trying to say.

Allen shrugged then, taking a couple of fries and threw them into his mouth before chewing quickly and swallowing. He turned back to his friend. "So, where have you been anyway? Haven't seen you in—what, two months?"

"Oh, brother took me to China without prior warning, sorry. I thought I sent you a postcard?"

"I didn't get it," Allen frowned. "But anyway since you were MIA, I mostly spent my time at the library. With Kanda," Allen snorted.

"Oh?" Lenalee perked up. Together? I thought you said he was a prick?"

"He  _is_ , but—"

"So—what about the next meetings?"

Allen sipped his orange juice one last time before looking out of the window, musing. "Well," he started, "We mostly just sat there. I mean, it is my favorite spot so I wouldn't move and neither would he, so we justtried to ignore each other. Most of the time."

"Really now," asked Lenalee in an amused tone, "Did it work then?"

"Well… not really. Sometimes we'd comment on each other's book—" Lenalee gave him a look. "Okay, yes, so  _I_  would comment on the book he was reading—and we'd end up arguing, usually. Just—one day we got too loud that we—got kicked out."

.

.

.

"And why, pray tell, am I eating with  _you_?" Kanda pointed his chopstick menacingly towards Allen's forehead. The younger boy's eyes crossed with the movement, before blinking a few times. Then, Allen smiled that sickeningly fake smile.

"Because,  _pray tell_ , Lavi kicked us out and we were hungry."

"That was  _your_  fault, stupid bean sprout."

"I'm not. A. Bean sprout. How hard it is to remember a two-syllable name, you stupid prick?" Allen retorted, crossing his arms in annoyance. "And besides, if you had just  _answered_  like normal people would when I was asking  _nicely_  instead of insulting me, we wouldn't be here now."

"If you'd just  _stay away_  from my business—"

"And  _here_  are more of your orders!" the muscular, Indian chef slammed down the trays on their table with more enthusiasm then what was necessary, stopping the boys from starting  _yet_  another argument.

Allen smiled disarmingly. "Thanks, Jerry," he said to the man, eyeing his second set of dishes with hungry eyes.

"Anytime, cutie~," Jerry cooed, before skipping back to the counter in big, light steps.

It was when he was about to devour his second batch of food thathe noticed Kanda staring. "What?"

Kanda stared some more, face contorted in a frown, before finally he asked, "…you're going to eat all those?"

Allen raised an eyebrow. "Of course, why would I order it otherwise?"

"…how come you eat so much and stay so short?"

Allen's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "Would you  _stop_  insulting my height? It's getting really old."

Kanda snorted. "Yeah, like your hair color."

.

.

.

"Oh wow, he sure  _does_  sound like a prick."

"He  _is_ a prick _,_ " Allen grumbled, biting into his straw rather menacingly. "That was the first time I really wanted to pummel someone into the ground."

"Well then if he's one, how come you—"

"I'm  _not_ , I already told you that I wasn't."

"Yeah, okay. So... you have anything  _good_  about him to tell me?"

"Well…" Allen was contemplating as he picked on his food with a fork, "He wasn't all that bad, actually. Like one day when we were walking home and my stomach growled loudly—"

"Wait, you were  _walking home_ with him?" Lenalee raised an interested eyebrow.

"We just happened to go to the same direction until the second intersection," the younger boy replied, defensive, although what he was being defensive about, Allen didn't know either. "Anyway my stomach growled loudly and he was complaining all the way and mocking me for how much of a monster my stomach was, but then he justwent and bought me some bread, so."

"Hmmmm," Lenalee hummed low and long, and Allen hated it when she did that. It was like she knew something Allen didn't, and the smile on her face was certainly not helping.

"Anyway, yeah. And besides, his drawing is good."

.

.

.

Allen had found out about that when one day, he managed to sneak behind Kanda while the other boy was sketching.

It was something simple, really, just the view outside of the window by their usual table. There was a tall tree, its branch fell in front of the window with its lush, green leaves sweeping against the glass surface with each blow of the summer wind.

There was a paved pathway down there, leading to the gate of the library. A couple of teenagers were walking side-by-side, laughing with each other—and this was the only element missing from Kanda's sketch.

Still, the picture itself was—"Wow. You really  _are_ talented, aren't you?"

At that, Kanda immediately turned his head to him, the long ponytail whipping to one side and the next second, he was already glaring at Allen. "Don't sneak behind me like that, baka moyashi!"

"I didn't—wait. What's a  _beccamoyashee_?" he asked, earning himself a cringe from Kanda's part. "What?"

"You're defiling my native language, stupid," the Asian male shook his head before going back to sketching. When Allen took a seat beside him instead of across the table like he usually would, Kanda growled a, "What?"

"You didn't answer my question," Allen pointed out, even though his eyes were trained to the pencil in Kanda's hand as it danced across the page, shaping lines and shades. And suddenly, Allen got an idea. "Hey, can you draw me?"

Kanda looked up at him with a flat face. "No," he deadpanned.

"Aww, come on!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No. What's so hard to understand from a 'no'?"

"Even when I'm asking politely?"

"Yes."

"Is it a yes to drawing me?"

"No, stupid, it's a yes to 'Yes I would still say no even if you were asking nicely'. Idiot."

"Why are you such a prick?"

"And why are you such a bean sprout?"

"I'm not a—"

"Ssssssh!"

Both boys turned their heads to find some other visitors pressing their index fingers to their lips with an annoyed frown on their faces, and Allen smiled apologetically while Kanda turned his head back to his sketch with a quiet "tch."

"Kand—"

"If you don't shut up," Kanda hissed, "We'll get kicked out again. Moron."

The white haired boy frowned at that. "Then draw me? And I'll leave you alone," Allen coaxed a little more, adding his bright, bright smile for good measure—even if it hadn't worked on Kanda last time, but he could try, right?

Kanda gave him a weird look, but then, "fine," he finally said, and Allen's smile got that much brighter.

Maybe, he should have been suspicious as to why Kanda so easily agreed to it, but for now he was justhappy? Although why he should be happy, Allen had no idea. Maybe because it would be the first time someone was going to draw a picture of him.

At any rate, he tried to stay as still as he could when Kanda turned to face him, sitting sideways on the chair and leaning against the wall behind him, the sketchbook now propped up on his lap in a standing position so that Allen could only look at the back of the book.

Kanda's hand started moving, the sound of the pencil scratching against the paper filled his ear—and Kanda only looked up maybe twice during that time. It wasn't long until that hand stopped moving and with a sigh, the Asian male finally said, "There."

Then, he tore that page from the sketch book and handed it to Allen, who was feeling a little bit too enthusiastic. Hurriedly, Allen flipped the paper and—he froze.

"What. Is this"? Allen asked flatly, his face blank because—he didn't know how to react to—to—

"You," Kanda simply answered, and the British boy looked up to see an amused smirk making its way to the other boy's pretty face.

There, on the torn page of the sketchbook was—a bean sprout. With Allen's face.

.

.

.

"Pfft—oh my god," Lenalee pressed her free hand to her mouth, trying—and kind of failing—to stifle a bubble of laughter from coming out of her mouth. On her other hand was a piece of paper with folded lines, containing the sketch she had managed to coax out of Allen's bag.

"Not. Funny," the younger teen gritted out, face bearing a red hue from embarrassment and a little bit of annoyance as his friend went on giggling.

"Ahaha, no, it's not funny," the girl managed between her giggles, "this is  _cute_ , Allen. Oh my god…" and she went back laughing.

Allen pouted, crossing his arms with a huff. "Not cute," he mumbled.

Finally, her laughter died down, and Lenalee sipped her milkshake to calm herself down. "But really, Allen," she began, "You—do you actually… like this drawing?"

Allen looked back at his friend and blinked. "Why?"

"Well…" Lenalee folded back the paper and handed it to Allen, "You're still keeping it."

Allen took back the paper and quieted down. "Well…"

.

.

.

"Say, I haven't seen Kanda lately," Allen had asked that day as he brought a few books to be taken home.

Lavi glanced up from scanning the books and with a sad smile, he said, "Ah, you see, he was only here for summer break. He's gone back to his dorm by now. He goes to some college out of town. Sorry, kid."

"Oh," Allen simply said, but he couldn't deny that he wasdisappointed and maybe, a little sad, because—

Allen shook his head lightly, and that attracted Lavi's attention. "You okay, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," Allen pout, though it was more of an attempt to keep his disappointment at bay. But Lavi was giving him a look as if he could see through his mask. "Look," Allen finally began, "It's just… there's something that I asked him and I haven't got an answer, so."

"Oh?" Lavi raised an eyebrow, looking curious now. He leaned forward on his desk then, propping his chin with his palm, and prompted, "And that would be?"

"Well," Allen scratched his cheek absently, his eyes looking to the side for a moment, before he finally looked back up at Lavi and replied, "What's a  _'beccamoyashee'_?

Lavi blinked. "Becca—what?"

"I think it's Japanese. Kanda called me that last week—"

"Japanese, hm," Lavi hummed, "Beccamo—oh.  _Oh._ " He turned to Allen with a grin then. "Was it 'baka moyashi'?"

"Uhh, yeah, it sounds about right," if Allen remembered correctly. "What does that mean?"

"Well, he basically called you 'stupid bean sprout'."

Allen pouted.  _Figures_ , he thought,  _a prick until the end._

"Is that all?" the redhead asked again, snapping Allen out of his thoughts. The boy nodded hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Lavi, I'm sure," because really? What more would he  _want_?

Lavi eyed him, long and good, before he finally shook his head lightly, smiling in a way that made Allen wanted to-to—

"If you say so," Lavi finally relented, handing Allen the books to be borrowed which Allen gladly accepted before smiling and walking away.

.

.

.

"No, you don't say so," Lenalee was frowning now, and in Allen's book, that was never a good sign. "Why didn't you ask his contact details orI don't know. Something. That librarian must have his contact information."

"And then  _what_? It's not like we were evenfriends. We were just—" just  _what_  exactly? Strangers who happened to meet pretty often? "I mean, we only ever met up at the library, and I've only seen him a few times. It wasn't like I went to the library everyday or—"

"Even though you  _did_  go there so you could see him?"

"I didn't—"

"You kept going there even when the electricity bill had been paid," the Chinese girl stated matter-of-factly, to which Allen had no valid arguments, and then she added, "And you're keeping his drawing."

"As a keepsake?" Allen offered, because if they weren't going to meet again... "It was something he made  _for me_ , Lenalee, even if—"

"But didn't you enjoy the time you spent with him?" Lenalee cut him off again, and Allen nodded, even as he was thinking that Lenalee should really let him finish his sentence for once, and—"Why?"

"Well Allen looked down, stirring his orange juice with the straw idly, just to give him something to do. "He's a prick," the answer was spoken in a smaller voice, because Allen knew it was kind of—weird, maybe.

Judging by the look on Lenalee's face when he raised his eyes to meet hers, it was.

"Well, you know, since he's a prick, I don't have tobe nice with him. I mean, he is… someone I could really argue with freely, and that's—is it weird that I enjoyed that?" because at this point, he didn't know anymore. It was just... Allen could almost,  _almost_  feel like he could be himself with Kanda, and the fact that he only knew the guy for less than two months, with a meeting frequency of twice to three times a week in average, that was saying something, wasn't it?

Lenalee's face softened up at that, and then she was smiling that  _'you're so stupid but you're adorable'_  smile. "Allen," she began gently, as if she was talking to a child, "You're  _missing_  him."

 _That_  made Allen fall silent, becauseit was true, wasn't it? No matter how hard he told himself that he wasn't, but—Allen lightly shook his head and smiled. "It doesn't matter," he finally said, looking up at the girl again. "He's living out of town, and I will be moving out in a few days too. I'm starting my uni soon enough, remember? I'll be living in the dorms, so."

"Right," Lenalee murmured a little sadly. "The scholarship you got to study music at that well-known art college in the neighbouring town..."

"Uh-huh," Allen nodded, shifting in his seat a little before unfolding the paper with his bean sprout drawing, "I'll meet new friends and have a new life, so it's fine." Even if he really missed Kanda, it was fine, because he—would be a part of Allen's summer memory, and that was all he was going to be.

He didn't like it that the thought made him a little sad, though.

.

.

.

Which was why, three days after that conversation with Lenalee, when Allen found himself standing in front of his new dorm room with a quite unfriendly frown as a welcome from his new roommate—as if said will-be roommate's eyes hadn't been widening in surprise when he'd first seen Allen mere seconds ago, Allen didn't know if it was appropriate for him to be  _happily annoyed_.

"Of course, _you_ have to be my new roommate,  _bean sprout_?"

Allen's eyebrow twitched, and he was quick to ignore that warm bubbles in his chest in favor to counter with, "So not only you’re my flatmate, I also have to room with you?"

Kanda simply snorted. "Those should be my words," Kanda sighed and crossed his arms, stepping aside to let Allen in, but the boy was just—standing there. " _Well_? Are you coming in or are you planning to stay out here?"

"Oh, right," Allen replied, and he could feel his cheeks warming up a little. What was he daydreaming about anyway? "Excuse me—"

"Why are you saying 'excuse me' when you enter your own room?" Kanda asked, raising a half-mocking, half-amused eyebrow.

For some reason, the half-mocking words from Kanda only caused the warm bubbles in Allen's chest to spread, and he really couldn't help the smile on his face. "Right."

Kanda snorted. "Baka moyashi."

"Hey! I know what that means now. BaKanda."

"What the f—"

"I just came up with it. You like?"

"Hell  _no._ "

"So you  _do_! I'm going to use it on you—"

"Did you even listen to me you stupid—"

Right. His summer days with Kanda might have ended, but when one season ended, another season began. And with that, Allen grabbed his luggage with one hand and stepped inside his new room, and into the new season of his life.

 

**. t b c .**


	2. Days Passing By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rooming with Kanda, Allen decided, was not as easy as he had thought it would be at first. This is what a daily life with Kanda looks like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The verse that is Allen's assignment down there is from Cradle Song by Brahms.
> 
> Second installment of DPB, with the same title as the series' title :D. I'm using a different style for this chapter, as it is more like a transition.
> 
> First posted in December 2010. I've revised this for typos and flow. Enjoy~ :)

 

 

**/ Territory /**

Rooming with Kanda, Allen decided, was not as easy as he had thought it would be at first.

Allen had found out on the second day into the arrangement how ridiculous Kanda could be. He had actually drawn a bold, black line in the middle of the room, using a 50 centimeters ruler, to divide the room into two _territories_. Then, he had made it clear that Allen was  _never_  to cross that line,  _or else._

Allen had snorted at that, inwardly calling Kanda a freak, but the one time he accidentally stepped over that line, an eraser was thrown right at his head.

"What the _bloody_ —"

"You crossed the line," Kanda simply answered before returning to sketching in bed, his legs pulled up to balance the sketchbook. A few seconds of Allen cursing inwardly and Kanda turned to face him again.

"What?" the boy asked irately.

"My eraser,  _bean sprout._ Give it back."

Allen scowled, at first, but slowly it melted into an annoyingly bright smile—as Kanda would put it, and he replied sweetly, "Here you go,  _sweetheart._ "

Allen didn't miss that chance to throw the stupid eraser back  _squarely_  at Kanda's forehead.

Needless to say, things were thrown, from books to pillows, followed by a mock fistfight that by the time they were done, the room was a mess, their things scattered across each other's part of the room, while the both of them laid there on the floor, side-by-side in the middle of the room, chests heaving and faces bruised and the line forgotten.

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**/ Routine /**

Every morning, Kanda would wake up ridiculously early. This, Allen found out the hard way. At 5:00 every morning, Kanda's phone would shrill out a heart-attack-inducing rock guitar sound as an alarm, and it always jolted Allen out of his sleep while it took Kanda at least one minute before he finally woke up and turned the bloody alarm off.

During that time, Allen would turn to the wall, cover his head with his pillow and groan at the sorry excuse for music blaring from Kanda's phone.

Once Kanda was awake and the horrible music was off, Allen usually listened to the rustling sounds of Kanda changing into his sweatpants and sweatshirt. Give or take five minutes later, his roommate would be gone out of the room to god knew where at this ungodly hour, but at least Allen was now free to doze off.

Kanda generally came back at 6.30, and by then Allen would usually be awake already, or at least, on the verge of waking. And the first thing he saw was, of course, one sweating Kanda Yuu who had no modesty and just took off his shirt  _there,_  right in front of him—or well, right by Kanda's own bed, which happened to be across of Allen's. For some reason, Allen was always facing that way when Kanda just came back from his morning workout.

By the third week, Allen thought he'd be able to remember the shape of Kanda's bare back without difficulties.

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/  **Struggle /**

Having one adjoining bathroom was more of a problem than what Allen thought it would be. It wasn't a problem when one of them didn't have a morning class, but when both of them  _did_ , well.

"Move. My class is in a building farther away than yours so I need to leave sooner," Allen hissed, his hand not budging from the bathroom's door knob and half on top of Kanda's own hand.

"No,  _you_  move," Kanda retorted, his hand gripping the knob under Allen's hand even tighter. "You take forever in the shower. What the hell do you  _do_  in there anyway?"

At that, though, Allen couldn't help but color a little. "Wh—taking a shower,  _of course._  What else is there to do?"

Kanda raised an eyebrow. "How would I know?  _You're_  the one who takes goddamn 45 minutes in the shower. What the heck, are you a girl?"

"Wh—" at that, Allen's eyebrow twitched and he pushed Kanda aside with his shoulder in annoyance. He got even more annoyed when Kanda barely budged. Damn that strong, toned body.

And Kanda pushed back, their shoulders and arms and hips pressed against each other, shaking lightly in their effort to push each other away. But still, Kanda was bigger, taller and  _stronger_ , so it was less than thirty seconds that Allen got tackled away quite hard from a bony hip digging to his side and he groaned in pain as he was forced to let go of the knob.

He could only swear at the slammed bathroom door the next second as he caressed his abused side.

At night, though, when they were tired and sleepy, sometimes, both of them  _tried_  to tolerate each other. At least, there were times when they would brush their teeth together, despite the glaring contest via the mirror, unnecessary comments on Allen's strawberry toothpaste—which Allen had bought because it had been ridiculously cheap, by the way—or Kanda not using enough toothpaste and their elbows kept jabbing each other as they moved—Kanda's to Allen's head and Allen's to Kanda's side.

The pain from those jabs was only slightly better than their morning struggle.

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**/ Homework /**

If there was a time where the two roommates would leave each other alone and in peace without previously arguing like a pair of fishwives, it was when the both of them were too busy with their respective homework.

Right then, Allen was sitting on his bed, his keyboard laid in front of him, as he stared at his homework. There was a verse that he needed to create a rhythm to, and Allen had no idea how to start.

" _As I bid thee Good Night / The Angels of Light / Draw close around thy nest / To guard thee in Rest_ ," Allen murmured the words, lightly snapping his finger in contemplation and trying to come up with an appropriate rhythm.

He fiddled with the keyboard a few times, and since no chord was given, Allen pressed the keys in different intervals while mumbling the verse over and over and adjust his fingers on the key to create some decent-listening rhythm and—

The constant clicking of Kanda's mouse caught his attention, and he turned his head to see his roommate sitting at his desk and completely absorbed by whatever he was seeing on his laptop, right hand moving about with grace as his index finger went about clicking the mouse.

"What are you working on?" Allen asked curiously, crawling out of his bed and walking over to peer at Kanda's monitor.

"Homework," the older male answered absently, dark eyes still focused on the laptop screen.

Allen rolled his eyes. "Yes, what  _kind_  of homework?"

Kanda sighed, before letting go of the mouse and leaning back against his chair. "Making logos," he answered, cracking his neck and stretching his arms a little.

"Oh," Allen then stood behind Kanda and bent forward a little to see the few logos Kanda had made and—well. He wasn't an expert in art, but he'd still  _know_  when something was good. "These are cool," he murmured.

"Hnn," Kanda grunted in acknowledgment, before leaning forward in his seat again, going back to work.

Not wanting to bother his roommate, Allen went back to his bed and sat before his keyboard again, murmuring the verse while pressing a few keys and—

"The last one sounds better than the rest," Kanda suddenly commented without looking away from his laptop, and Allen blinked.

He tried that rhythm again while saying the verse a little louder and—well. That sounded quite fine.

"Thanks," he smiled up at his roommate but Kanda didn't even spare him a glance. Well, Allen jotted down the rhythm on his worksheet anyway.

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**/ Decoration /**

A month and a half into their living arrangement, Allen realized something—their room was bare.

The walls were painted some beige color with plain dark blue curtains, completed with some basic furniture but that was all. Kanda's side of the room was even plainer, because he preferred boring white sheet with a black bedcover. And damn was he neat. Kanda always left the room with all his stuff back in their place. No books on the bed or pencils out of the case or other useless knick-knacks lying around.

Allen's, though…

Yes, Allen wasn't the neatest person in existence, but he wasn't all that messy, really. So it irked him that whenever Kanda was done making his bed and tidying up his stuff before leaving the room, he would glance to Allen's side of the room and— _snort._

Now though, right after entering the room, smelling so strongly of paint that Allen was tempted to tell him to take a shower right about  _now_ , Kanda was—staring. He was staring at the wall by Allen's bed incredulously.

"What—just.  _What._ "

"It's called decoration," Allen raised an eyebrow. "This room needs more color so I pasted a poster on the wall. I can do that on my part of the wall, right?" he frowned then, ready to argue if Kanda was going to prohibit him for decorating at least  _his_  wall.

Kanda stared some more and—"That's one  _creepy_  poster. Weirdo."

On the wall, there was a picture of a deranged-looking clown carrying a coffin upside-down on his back. "What? It looks cool," Allen shrugged.

Kanda gave him a weird look, before walking over to his desk and put his bag there, then disappearing into the bathroom.

The next day, when Allen came back quite late because he had just finished practicing piano in campus—since he had none back at the dorm—it was Allen's turned to gape when he caught sight of what was now hanging on the wall by Kanda's bed.

"What on earth—"

"Decoration," Kanda deadpanned. Then the older male reached out a hand to said 'decoration', pulling the katana out of its sheath. "Now  _this_ ," Kanda said, smirking as the blade of the katana gleamed menacingly, "is what I call 'cool'."

Allen gulped. Putting aside the thought of  _why_  they even allowed something like that in the dorm—if Kanda didn't just  _smuggle_  it in—Allen decided that Kanda definitely wasn't about to be outdone, even regarding  _decoration_ s.

It was much later that night that Allen found out that: one, the katana had a name—Mugen; and two, it had always been there, in the room. Allen just had never known of its existence because Kanda had hidden it under his bed.

Allen didn't know what to make of his roommate who slept with a sharp object within reach.

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**/ Pets /**

Not really satisfied with their rather creepy-scary decorations in the room, Allen bought  _yet_  another thing to add some color to their shared room.

He hummed lightly as he carried the objects into the room, lips forming a persistent smile despite the stuff he carried were a little heavy. He maneuvered the box in one hand in favor of turning the door knob and entering his room—but it was locked. Maybe Kanda had gone somewhere.

Oh well.

Allen fished his key from his jeans pocket and unlocked the door, carefully making his way inside and gently pushing the door closed with his foot.

He couldn't wait to get this particular decoration ready.

Later in the evening, when Kanda was back from wherever it was he had been and his eyes caught the new occupants of their room, Allen really nearly  _giggled_  at his expression.

"The hell?" he asked eloquently.

Allen was openly chuckling now. "Your left eye is twitching," he commented lightly, before climbing down his bed and walked over to his desk. There sat a medium-sized fish bowl with starfish-shaped ornaments and a few small stones at the bottom. Two small fish were swimming happily inside, one was yellow and the other mostly black. "Aren't they cute?"

"…goldfish, bean sprout?"

"The name's Allen, Bakanda. And I've always wanted a pet but they don't allow cats in here so I bought fish," he elaborated. "They give more life and color to our room."

Kanda stared at the fish like he was trying to decide whether to disagree or to let Allen and the fish be, but then Allen spoke again, and—

"The yellow one is Timcanpy. I already named him. Now would you please give this cute little black fish a name?" Allen asked with a sweet, sweet smile that he dearly  _hoped_  would somehow work on Kanda.

After all, if Kanda named the black one, it would give him a sense of—ownership. Or something. So at least he would let Allen keep them—

"Golem."

Allen blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"The name," Kanda turned to face Allen, raising a hand to the fish bowl's direction. "Golem."

The younger boy frowned. "Why? What an un-cute name."

Kanda snorted. "Like yours is any better. Timcanpy is such a weird name.

"It's not—" wait. Kanda had named the fish. And he'd just referred to Timcanpy as  _Allen's_ , so that would make 'Golem' Kanda's right? "On the second thought, Golem is such a  _charming_  name. It sounds strong," he smiled widely, because. Hey. His objective had been achieved.

"Yeah whatever," Kanda shrugged and went to his desk and placed his bag there, before proceeding to the bathroom without even a second glance to the fish bowl.

Allen's smile dimmed at that, but—hey, at least Kanda had given it a name. That should be enough…right?

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**/ Sharing is Caring /**

It turned out that Kanda  _did_  feed the fish. Allen started noticing it one morning when Kanda had just come back from his morning workout. Before flinging off his shirt after he arrived as per usual, Kanda walked over to Allen's desk and took the small plastic bag of the fish food Allen kept near the bowl and threw some in.

Instantly, Timcanpy and Golem swam to the surface and started eating. This, Allen watched with bleary eyes still clouded with sleep, but even that didn't lessen his urge to smile.

So he did.

"What?" Kanda growled at him once the older boy noticed that Allen was awake and staring.

Allen just shook his head then, before yawning and stretching on his bed. "You feed them," he stated simply. Kanda was sharing the responsibility of owning the pet goldfish. He cared enough for them to actually feed them. Wasn't that just  _wonderful_?

"I don't need dead fish in my room," Kanda grumbled before walking to his bed and taking off his shirt.

Now that one? It was still Allen's favorite sight, for whatever reason.

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**/ Wake-up Call /**

As time went by, Allen's assignments were getting increasingly difficult. It wasn't a rare sight these days to see Allen running late for class after having stayed up until late at night, fiddling with his keyboard to practice a piece or creating melodies for certain verses and Allen was just thankful Kanda didn't say much about him being noisy with all the sounds that he created during the night.

It was a bit rare, but it happened these days, that Kanda's noisy alarm didn't jolt Allen awake in the morning, because he only had so little sleep. Kanda rarely bothered to wake him up that sometimes Allen had to dash to his classes, running late. Kanda had seen this change with a raised eyebrow, but he didn't do or say anything otherwise.

That Thursday—oh wait, it was past midnight, it was already Friday—Allen had pulled an all-nighter, so by the time Kanda's alarm went off at 5 a.m., he was still awake, finishing up some simple composition. His eyes were bleary and he could barely keep them open.

He didn't even look up as Kanda finally woke up and turned off the alarm.

Too absorbed as he was in his homework, it surprised him when Kanda suddenly spoke to him.

"You haven't slept?"

Allen looked up from his worksheet and keyboard and he gave Kanda an almost frustrated look. "What does it look like?" he replied sharply, because—yes, lack of sleep was never good for him. Why was inspiration so hard to get? But Allen realized that he didn't have to snap at Kanda so he shook his head lightly. "Sorry, I just—I need to submit this at 8 today."

"It's five."

"I know," Allen snorted and went back to writing down some notes on his worksheet, "I heard your stupid alarm."

"You won't be able to wake up."

"Please don't jinx it," pleading, almost. Allen knew how hard it was to wake up when he got only, say, 2 hours of sleep. He needed to wake up at least by 7 so he would have enough time to prepare before going to classes and if he didn't get this finished soon…

Allen shook his head. He had to do this.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Kanda lingered, but before he could ask what the older boy wanted, Kanda was already moving away, fiddling with his cell phone before finally leaving the room.

It was about half an hour later that Allen finally collapsed back to bed, papers strewn on the foot of his bed and keyboard stacked messily on his desk.

He didn't know how long he was out, but he woke up to the horrible, horrible indefinable noises, because—it sounded like there was a rock concert with a sucky sound system going wrong happening right by his ears. And then there was a shrilling, ringing noises too, and it kept going on and on and the guitar rock kept shrilling and the sounds were too annoying for Allen to  _not_  wake up, and—

"Oh dear  _Lord_ , what is—"

He forced his eyes open, and the first thing he saw was Kanda's impassive face as said roommate just stood there by his bed with crossed arms and dripping wet hair, a towel was slung around his neck. Allen noticed that it meant Kanda was freshly out of the shower and—

Wait, that wasn't the problem now.

"What on earth are these noises?" he groaned then, placing one hand on his throbbing temple. "Make them stop, please. God, my head…"

Kanda, however just stood there and stared. "You're awake yet?"

A groan was his answer. "What—yes,  _of course_  I am!" with this kind of noise, how couldn't he be?

And then the noises died down one by one, so Allen opened his eyes—when did he squeeze them close?—to find Kanda holding  _Allen's_  phone and an alarm clock, pushing the off button.

"…what did you—" Was Kanda turning on  _three_  horrible-sounding alarms to wake him up? That was—

"What? You're awake so don't complain," the Japanese said as he fiddled with the phone before putting it back down on Allen's desk.

Allen groaned into his hands. "You could have just shaken me awake or something," because three alarms was a little overdoing it... right? So why was Kanda the one giving him an incredulous look now?

"You think I haven't tried?"

"…You have?"

"A few times before today," Kanda shrugged, "Tch, you sleep like you're dead whenever you pulled an all-nighter. Stupid. Now get up, you're wasting time sitting there like an idiot," and now Kanda was tugging him up, roughly pulling on his arm to jerk him up, and Allen yelped.

Kanda was practically  _dragging_ him out of bed, what the—"H-hey!"

"No more sleep for you, moron. It's 7:10. Get. Up," and with that he jerked Allen further away and pushed him to the direction of the bathroom.

Well. Allen grumbled along the way but he didn't fight anymore.

It was 30 minutes later, after he finished his shower and was getting ready for classes that he realized that—Kanda had meant well. He was only making sure Allen wouldn't be late to submit the assignment he had been working on so hard all night long, and that—

It was nice to know that Kanda actually cared.

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**/ Peace Offering /**

Allen was smiling to himself. Lenalee had come to visit that weekend, although she hadn't been able to stay too long, but he'd given Allen her homemade cookies, and god knew how much Allen adored Lenalee's cookies.

When he arrived at the dorm that afternoon, no one was there. Michael—their flat mate who was occupying the other bedroom—was absent as per usual. He'd only ever seen Michael maybe five times in all this time he had been living there. Kanda had told Allen that he was a weirdo, though. Then again,  _everyone_  was a weirdo to Kanda, so.

Allen shrugged, before walking to the bedroom he shared with Kanda, finding that his roommate wasn't back yet.

Well. Allen put the jar of cookies on the table. It was half-eaten already, because Allen hadn't been able to keep his hands off of the jar along the way. He took a few more bites, before deciding that maybe he should get a shower first. So he placed the jar on his desk, slipping out of his jacket and going into the adjoining bathroom.

Give or take 30 minutes later, Allen came out of the room to find Kanda sitting on his bed, sketching.

"Oh, you're back," he greeted, and Kanda lowered his sketchbook to peer at him and grunted his response, but—was it him or Kanda looked just a  _little_  uneasy? Allen walked to his desk then, noticing that oh, Kanda had fed Tim and Golem again, and that—"What the bloody…"

There, on his desk, sat an  _empty_  cookie jar.

Allen was pretty sure there had been almost half the jar when he left it, so—wait. Did Kanda…

"Did you eat my cookies?" Allen asked in a low voice. He wouldn't have thought Kanda  _would_ , but—there was no one else around.

Kanda though, didn't even glance up. "No. Why would I?"

Allen didn't believe him. Why? Because—Kanda wasn't looking at him. Allen stepped closer to Kanda's bed then and slowly repeated his question, "Kanda. Did you. Eat. My cookies?"

At the back of his mind, Allen vaguely felt like it was such a ridiculous question to ask  _Kanda_  but—

"I said  _no,_ " Kanda denied even harder now, "Why the  _hell_  would I want to eat something like that—"

"They were homemade," Allen gritted out. "I love homemade cookies. My best friend baked them for me and you wouldn't be able to find anything like that on the store. Do you know how long it's been since I got a taste of  _any_ homemade cookies?"

"Like I said, I didn't—"

"You have crumbs around your lips, Kanda," it was said in a dangerously low tone, and—"You know what? I would have  _shared_  it with you if you had just asked, and—"

Allen faltered, because—well. This was ridiculous. Yes, he was angry, but more to the fact that Kanda wouldn't admit it. If Kanda had—yes, he might still be pissed, but it would be easier to forgive him. Now though…

He needed to get out. Cool his head. Something. Getting worked up about just  _cookies_  were stupid, yes, he knew that at the back of his head but—Allen just shook his head. "Whatever," he muttered and grabbed his jacket, stepped into his sneakers and went out of the room, leaving with a silent click on the door.

If Allen had turned around to see Kanda's face, he might have seen the—guilt? Regret?—maybe a little bit of both in those dark eyes.

Allen didn't know how long he'd been out, just wandering in the neighborhood around the campus, sitting down somewhere in a park and just basically wasting his time. The cold breeze had cooled his head down and now he was feeling stupid about having gotten so angry at Kanda. Though he'd still need to at least make the jerk admit that he'd stolen his cookies.

Yuu Kanda. Stealing his  _cookies_.

Now that he thought about it, that notion alone was quite ridiculous that his lips trembled in his attempt to not randomly burst out laughing.

Shaking his head, Allen finally walked back to the dorm with a cooler head. He'd just talk to that stupid dork of a roommate. Maybe Kanda had just wanted to try them, but then Lenalee's cookies were just  _that_  good—Allen had never tasted any cookies like hers, really—so without realizing it, he'd eaten them all up? That was… possible.

It was probably why the jerk hadn't wanted to admit it. He'd probably die out of embarrassment.

When he set his foot back at their dorm, however, his nostrils immediately caught the smell of something  _burning_ , and it alarmed him. He rushed inside then, yelling for Kanda and—"What happened?"

He didn't expect, however, to see Kanda in the kitchen, bending over the oven—was that smoke?—and once he heard Allen, the older man jolted and turned around, and that was when Allen realized that Kanda was—

Kanda was … wearing an apron.

"…What the—"

At the sight of Allen staring at him, however, Kanda growled, said "Shut the hell up!" before finally wrenching the black apron over his head and throwing it aside. He then hurriedly stalked out of their dorm in large, angry steps, slamming the door behind him.

"What the hell was that about…" Allen muttered confusedly. Then he went over to take Kanda's apron from the floor and he noticed the apron had some stains—paint? He brought the apron closer to his nose and vaguely smelled paint from said apron.

Oh. This was probably the apron Kanda used when he was painting, then… So what was he doing in the kitchen?

Allen's eyes caught the opened oven and the strong smell of something burning, so he walked over to said contraption. Inside the oven were…cookies.

Black, burnt, shapeless cookies, yes, but cookies nonetheless and—now that he took a good look, the kitchen  _was_  a mess. There was flour all over the floor and some used utensils messily stacked on the sink, and—

Had Kanda been trying to … bake cookies?

Allen went silent and proceeded to clean up the kitchen, pulling out the burnt cookies and putting them aside, washing the dishes and wiping the oven clean and mopping the floor, and all the while he really, really couldn't help that small smile etched on his lips.

When everything was clean, Allen contemplated on what to do with the burnt cookies. They certainly didn't look edible, and Kanda did look like he was going to throw them away anyway. And even though Allen really wasn't one to throw away food, there was nothing he could do at this point.

So he brought the cookies to the trash can, but before he threw them, Allen took one piece and took a bite and—he nearly gagged. It was—too bitter from being burnt, and just basically wasn't edible at all. With a whispered apology, the cookies finally found their rest in the trash bag.

Twenty minutes later, Kanda came back with a plastic bag in hand. Allen was about to greet him, to—maybe try to talk to him or just—let the older man know that he wasn't angry anymore. But before he could even open his mouth, something rather hard and big hit him straight on the forehead. "Oww! What the bloody—"

"Was in the supermarket," Kanda replied curtly, kicking his shoes and going straight to his bed.

Allen scowled at that and he really was about to—throw at the jerk whatever it was that he had thrown to Allen. But as soon as he grabbed the object from his lap, he faltered.

In his hand was a huge bar of chocolate that Allen had often seen in stores but never bought due to the price, and—"…you're forgiven."

Kanda was silent for a few seconds, but then Allen heard a snort. "I'm not apologizing."

The snarky reply, however, just made Allen laugh. "Of course not," he snickered, as he peeled the wrappers, "You're forgiven anyway."

Kanda clucked his tongue, and Allen took the first bite of his chocolate. It was—not overly sweet, but it melted on his tongue, and just overall tasted wonderful. He chanced a glance at Kanda who was now busying himself with his laptop and—Allen smiled.

It turned out that rooming with Kanda really wasn't all that bad.

* * *

 

**.tbc.**

* * *

 

 


	3. What's Yours is Mine (to Steal and Hide and not Give Back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen wasn't sure how it had started and who started that first, but lately, hiding each other's things when they were pissed was… common occurrence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for not getting this up sooner. Anyways, I'm hoping to keep updating and then posting the final chapter around Christmas. Wish me luck :)

 

 

"So how's life with Prince Charming?"

Allen frowned at the phone, one hand still fiddling with a small bar of chocolate he was getting out of the refrigerator. The white-haired youth managed to open the wrapper now and he took a bite before answering, "Did you mean ' _Prick_  Charming'?" and he snorted in amusement at that. Yes, Kanda was charming—but a prick nonetheless.

Lenalee laughed at that. "You were the one who said he wasn't so bad. Didn't he  _try_  to bake cookies for you last time? That's so sweet, you know."

"Well—too bad the result wasn't as sweet as the gesture," Allen mumbled to the phone, and it really was just to not let Lenalee know how it still put a stupid grin on his face every time he remembered it. Though Lenalee never  _stopped_  teasing him about it ever since he'd told her about the—stolen cookies.

"It doesn't change the fact that he can be sweet. Now I really want to meet this guy."

"Oh yes, you'll love his hair—not the person," Allen laughed a little even as he bent to get a better look at the insides of the fridge. There really wasn't much in it, so finding an item that didn't belong in there should be easy. He didn't find it there, alright. "And speaking of which, if you'd excuse me, I need to find my shaving foam. Kanda is getting creative."

"…Shaving foam?" the girl asked, and was it just Allen or her tone sounded a little incredulous? "I'm sorry, Allen, but—"

"Yeah?"

"What do you use your shaving foam for?"

Allen's hand stopped fiddling with the stack of cup noodles in the cupboard above the counter, and his eyes moved sideways to give the phone a skeptical look. "What are you trying to say exactly?"

"Sorry, sorry," Lenalee giggled, "Never mind that. But anyway, what does Kanda being creative have to do with your missing…  _shaving foam_?"

Allen closed the refrigerator's door and sighed. "He  _stole_  it and  _hid_  it."

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Allen wasn't sure how it had started and who started that first—though he had the sneaking suspicion that it had been  _Allen_  himself who had done this first—but lately, hiding each other's things when they were pissed was… common occurrence.

Yes, Allen knew that it was stupid, but—well. Maybe they were  _both_  stupid. But if Allen remembered correctly, it had started with Kanda being a particularly big jerk one day that Allen got really pissed. So he justwent and stole Kanda's hairbrush.

Yes, he'd stolen his  _hairbrush_. It had been funny to see Kanda trying to find the brush, but it didn't mean much when he found out that Kanda's hair had been  _fine_  without it. That night, after Kanda had given up finding his brush, he simply pulled at his hair tie, let his hair fall down his back and ran his fingers through it a few times and... _voilà_! His hair was all nice and smooth all of a sudden.

Allen had resented Kanda for that.

Three days after that, when Allen had made a particularly snarky comment, Allen lost his mouse.

Yes, he could use the touchpad on his laptop, and yes, his assignment was mostly something he had to type so it didn't really matter, but it was still annoying. Kanda's smug look when he kept failing to find it was irritating, too.

Three days after that, the mouse was back, sitting nicely on top of his desk with Kanda smirking triumphantly for practically the whole day.

This then led Allen to steal Kanda’s phone strap. It was probably a gift, since Kanda didn't strike him as someone who would go around buying a phone strap. It was black, with some Japanese Kanji Allen couldn't read, but it didn't matter.

So when Kanda took a shower, Allen went to Kanda's desk and removed the phone strap. He then slipped it into the gap between his mattress and the frame of the bed on the side pressed to the wall, before finally leaving for his classes.

Later that afternoon when Allen had finally come back from campus, Kanda was already there, looking calm as he worked on his laptop again, and he really didn't look like he was even  _trying_  to find his missing phone strap.

So Allen went over to his bed and slipped his hand to where he had hid the phone strap that morning. What he found was a folded piece of paper, and when he unfolded it, scribbled there was  _"WAY too obvious. Stupid."_

Abruptly, Allen turned to Kanda and the Japanese was already smirking at him, waving his phone strap in his hand.

This now led to Kanda hiding his shaving foam, of all things. He was getting kind of creative in choosing the things to steal, really. And now was Kanda's  _turn_  wasn't it?

Allen really had to wonder when this had turned into a game. Allen had only done it the first time as some sort of a revenge, but.

There was some kind of rule though, that they should never take something of real importance, like anything related to school assignments. That aside, though, Allen had already forgotten half the things they'd stolen from each other by now.

Allen went to the cabinet under the kitchen counter, squinting his eyes to search for his missing bottle of shaving foam, but—nope. Not there either. Where could it  _be_? Surely Kanda wasn't all that creative...

Oh, wait. He was an art major. Of  _course_  he'd be  _at least_  a little creative—

"Found it yet?"

The poor boy nearly jumped at the sudden voice coming from the living room, and once he looked up, Kanda was already there, smirking smugly down at him. Allen growled at that, and Kanda just turned on his heels, leaving Allen with a sway of his hair and that obnoxious red hair tie—oh, he was  _so_  stealing that hair tie next time.

Sighing, Allen pulled himself up with the hand on the counter and went over to the couch to sit down for a bit. Kanda was probably changing in their room, and Allen didn't feel like seeing that smug face of his right now.

One of Allen's hands reached around, looking for the TV remote. They didn't use this living room much because they would usually just be cooped up in their room and working on assignments or just reading. Neither he nor Kanda were fans of the telly, but since Allen had nothing better to do now—well yes, so he had to find the shaving foam but he was taking a break, okay?—he thought why the hell not watch some stupid TV show?

Failing to find the remote on the table, Allen then vaguely remembered Michael had been home last night and there had been some noises from the TV, so maybe Michael had forgotten to put the remote back on its place?

Bending down, the white haired boy peered under the coffee table and the couch, but he found nothing, so he sat back up and slipped his hand into the gap between the couch's seats and—oh, there was something hard, so this was it right?

When he pulled it out, though, Allen found himself holding the bottle of shaving foam he'd been looking for the whole afternoon.

"Ha!" he shouted in triumph and immediately dashed to his shared room with Kanda and waved said bottle in front of Kanda's nose.

"Tch, so you found it," was Kanda's response.

"Of course I  _did."_

Kanda walked closer though, and stopped in front of Allen to stare him down with a raised eyebrow and—"What do you need that for anyway?"

Allen pouted. First Lenalee, and then Kanda and—suddenly, Kanda's hand was there, on his face, tracing his jaw and chin with a thumb and—waitwaitwait— _what?_

Kanda pulled back though. "You don't even have anything to shave there. Kid."

At that comment, Allen's previously widened eyes were now narrowed at the smirking jerk. Oh he was  _so_  going to get revenge.

.

.

.

That weekend, Allen executed his plan. Kanda usually took a longer shower on weekends, so Allen thought he'd have all the time he needed. That day, as usual, Kanda came back from his morning workout at about 6.30. Allen had found out where Kanda went at such ungodly hour after  _casually_  asking Kanda about it sometime ago, and he also knew that Kanda would go meditate for a bit after he came back, so Allen used that time to take a shower.

When he was done showering, Kanda immediately took his turn to use the shower, his hair already down because weekends were when he washed it, and it meant that he'd left his hair tie outside.

Once the bathroom door was closed, Allen started to work. He knew Kanda only owned two hair ties; one was a small, black hair band and the other red and resembling a rope. Really, with hair that long, Kanda sure didn't bother to buy more hair ties—then again, it wasn't like he'd ever use more than one at a time, so.

Anyway, Allen had a plan for this, and he was sure that Kanda wouldn't be able to find his hair ties for quite a while. Smirking to himself, the boy proceeded to pick the black hair band lying around on Kanda's desk, before going to the other's drawers to find the red hair tie.

Allen fished a spool of thin but strong, white thread from his pocket, tying the hair band and the red hair tie together tightly, and doubling it just for good measure. Then he walked over to the window, extending the thread down so that the hair ties were hanging from the window. Cutting the thread long enough, he tied the other end to the foot of his desk lamp. Making sure that it was tied securely, Allen closed the window and covered the thin, almost invisible thread with the curtains.

Ten minutes later when Kanda was out of the shower, Allen really couldn't keep that sly grin out of his face. He tried covering it with a book, yes, but it was still there, and it was too obvious. Kanda noticed almost immediately.

"…what did you hide this time?" Kanda asked, voice low and threatening, but Allen was far too amused imagining what Kanda would do without his hair tie to care about the underlying threat.

"What do you think?" the boy nearly sing-sang, and he watched with mirth as Kanda started looking around for the missing thing.

Frowning, Kanda sat down on his bed and started rubbing his hair dry with a towel, giving up looking for the moment, because he didn't even know what  _was_  missing.

Keeping his eyes on his book, the British boy did a mental countdown. Normally it took Kanda five to ten minutes to get his hair half-dry, and usually he'd start looking for his hair tie around that time. So he waited, and waited and—

"…Oi. You didn't—" Kanda stood up abruptly, realizing his hair tie wasn't on its place on his desk. The older boy proceeded to look through his drawer, trying to find his other hair tie, only to find it missing, too. He turned to Allen with a glare. " _You_."

Allen grinned wider. "Yes,  _darling_?"

Kanda growled, but then he stood up and started searching the room, out to the kitchen and living area, and Allen didn't know how long it was until Kanda finally came back to their room, sending death glares his way before proceeding to snatch a wooden pencil lying atop of his sketch book on the desk.

For a split-second, Allen wondered if Kanda was contemplating his demise via a wooden pencil, but then Kanda merely gathered his long, silky and now mostly dry hair, and started pulling it up. Well, maybe he found something to tie his hair with then? That was bori—

Wait. Waitwaitwaitwait, Kanda didn't tie his hair. Instead, he twisted his hair and start putting it into a—

"Pfft! Seriously?" Allen snorted and failed to hide his laughter as Kanda slipped the pencil into his hair, securing the artistically messy  _bun._  "Oh my god! This is so—"

"Shut the hell—what are you doing with that phone—"

"Too late!" Allen shouted triumphantly, quickly saving the photo he had just taken and he was  _just_  about to tuck his phone back into his pocket, when Kanda suddenly  _lunged_  at him. The next second, he was practically pinning Allen down on the bed, one hand pressing a shoulder flat to the mattress while the other was trying to pry the phone out of Allen's stubborn grip.

Allen, of course, didn't give up easily, holding onto his phone like it was his lifeline. It wasn't until the strands of silky hair that was Kanda's side-bangs were falling to brush against his cheek that Allen stiffened, face warming up and the grip on his phone loosening.

Kanda used this opening to his advantage. He swiftly snatched the phone away from Allen's hand, fiddling with it for a moment to find and  _delete_  the photo Allen had just taken. But for now, Allen couldn't care as the feel of soft hair against his skin and the scent of the soap Kanda used still lingered over him.

.

.

.

Sometimes, Allen really hated Kanda. Just  _right_  after he was being merciful enough to actually return the hair ties—on Monday morning, because Kanda had to go to classes, though Allen had been practically talking Kanda's ear off about the bun and how he had been able to hide them without Kanda ever finding them—Kanda just had to go and steal his  _iPod_  when he wasn't looking.

It was an iPod shuffle, yeah, the one that Allen could actually afford. And since it was quite small, Kanda could have hidden it  _anywhere._  He'd tried looking for it all over his room, the adjoined bathroom, climbing a chair so that he could peek above the closet, but—not there either.

He'd looked around the flat, too. Behind the TV, under the cushions—Allen hoped Kanda had enough sense not to hide it in places where it could be accidentally crushed or broken—and he was giving up, after his half-day of fruitless search.

It was then that Kanda waltzed into their bedroom, face smug and smirk wide as his eyes taunted Allen for being unable to find his beloved iPod—the source of his inspiration, the friend that accompanied him when no one else would and—yeah, so he  _loved_  his iPod. What.

"Giving up yet?" the Japanese male asked with a mocking tone, and—had Kanda not taunted him, Allen might have considered giving up, but now…

"No way _,_ " he grounded out. But well, he  _was_  tired, so, "I'm just taking a break."

Kanda snorted.

Allen glared, looking at Kanda up and down to decide if there was something Kanda always had with him that he could steal—aside of his hair tie, he'd done that last time, and that was probably  _why_  Kanda had decided to steal his iPod and—

Wait. He recognized the shape of that small bulge on Kanda's back pocket and—

"It's there, isn't it?" Allen exclaimed, immediately going to his roommate and really nearly  _tackling_  him, had Kanda's footing been less steady. Without much thinking, Allen's hand went around Kanda's waist to keep him there while his other hand immediately  _slipped_  into Kanda's back pocket to work his iPod out and—

"Oi." Allen blinked up at Kanda, hand still halfway out of the pocket, "Get off, you're molesting me," Kanda deadpanned.

Allen blinked once, twice and—oh.  _Oh._  Immediately, he jerked backwards, iPod in hand and—"Wh-I didn't—it's your fault for hiding my iPod  _there_!" the boy retorted, and now, he couldn't deny that he was definitely  _blushing_. He could feel the heat on his cheeks.

Kanda just snorted at that. "Yeah, whatever. Kid."

"I'm not a kid!" was his automatic response. Although for some reason, his heart was beating a little faster than normal and—right. Music. He needed his music to calm down. So he went back to his bed and sat down, plugging the earphones to his iPod and the ear buds into his ears, He  _tried_  not to think on how he had just been essentially  _holding_  Kanda in his arms and placed his hand on—

But before Allen could venture further into the thought, right when he pressed the play button, a loud rock guitar melody blared in his ears and it made him jolt up in the bed,  _literally_.

"Bloody hell!" Allen swore and turned to Kanda, knowing Kanda must have replaced his classical music collection with the bunch of this sorry excuse for music they called punk rock.

Immediately tearing his earphones away from his abused ears, Allen glared at Kanda, who must have realized what had happened, because now—" _You—"_  Kanda was  _smirking,_  annoyingly so.

For the moment, all Allen could think of was how to get back at Kanda, thoughts of Kanda's warm breath in his ear, his firm body in his arms and the feel of his backside against Allen's own hand temporarily forgotten.

.

.

.

**_\- to be continued -_ **

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have never read this yet... let me tell you that the next installment will have a real "fun" development between those two. Please look forward to it! ;)
> 
> Comments will be appreciated~


	4. Strikes of Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had started with mere curiosity. Without thinking much, Allen only meant to brush the strands of hair away so Kanda wouldn't accidentally swallow it in his sleep or something. But then it developed more than Allen would have liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's the yummy development I promised on the previous chapter :p
> 
> Comments would be loved, and hope you'd enjoy this! :)

 

It had started with mere curiosity.

Allen remembered it being a Thursday night—or was it Friday already? Allen couldn't tell. All he knew was that it was such an ungodly hour at the dead of night—morning—whatever, and he was tired and extremely sleepy and he blamed the assignment again for keeping him up so late.

It was when he had finally finished said assignment, stretching his arms and twisting his back that he caught sight of—Kanda's sleeping face.

It was nothing special, really. Kanda didn't make weird faces or anything as he slept. It was just—he looked kind of peaceful. Kanda was lying on his back with his face turned slightly to one side—the side that was facing Allen's bed, and Allen could see that the frown lines that usually adorned the pretty face were almost gone, and Kanda looked noticeably more relaxed.

Unconsciously, Allen stepped closer to Kanda's bed; eyeing the older man with a curiosity he'd always ignored before it could even grow.

Now, though…

Now, Allen was wondering what could possibly be happening in Kanda's dream for him to look so far from intimidating, unlike when he was awake. Or what could possibly have put the permanent frown on Kanda's pretty face outside of his sleep.

He noticed the strands of hair falling across Kanda's face from one side of his head, over his lips and down to his other cheek, and it would be bad if some of the hair went into his mouth and Kanda accidentally swallowed it, right?

So without thinking much, Allen bent over and carefully brushed the strands of hair out of Kanda's face, gently, so he wouldn't wake the man up.

Kanda muttered something incomprehensible then, as if knowing that someone was  _touching_  him in his sleep, and Allen immediately jerked his hand away as if he had been burnt. That was when he realized—what was he  _doing_?

Shaking his head, Allen quickly retreated to his own bed, blaming his weird behavior on lack of sleep and—

And Kanda's pretty face.  _Duh._

.

.

.

"Get the hell up, stupid."

It was with that voice, barely reaching his ears along with all the other horrible noises shrilling in his ears, and a far-from-gentle tugging on his hand, that Allen was harshly pulled out of his sleep.

Groaning at the horrible, horrible noise-induced headache, Allen pleaded, "Turn them off, please?" and god, he just wanted to curl back up in bed. But no, the shrill noises prevented him from doing so, and Kanda's grip on his wrist was persistent and—"Yes, yes, okay, I'm up! Turn them off, please?"

Allen felt himself being tugged up until he was sitting up on the bed, before finally, the noises died down one by one and he really almost flopped back into bed, except that there were fingers  _pinching his cheek_  now and—"Ow! What the bloody—"

"Get. Up. It's ten past seven, you moron."

Allen made another incomprehensible protesting noise, but he let Kanda drag him out of bed anyways. Like always. Yes, this was becoming a quite common occurrence, as Allen pulled all-nighters more often these days, and he wouldn't get to his classes on time if Kanda didn't drag him out of bed. Allen had the sneaking suspicion that Kanda took sadistic pleasure in abusing his ears in the morning with those horrible alarms, and surely after such effort, letting him go back to sleep would be such a waste.

That, or—Kanda actually  _cared_  that much? Allen didn't know, and he didn't dare ask.

As he was walking to the bathroom, Allen idly wondered how come Kanda looked so different when he was awake. Even now, he could still remember how relaxed and—dare he say it— _peaceful_  Kanda had looked the night before, but.

Why was he thinking about that again?

.

.

.

Which was probably why, three days after that, when Kanda had gone to sleep a little earlier than usual, Allen found himself staring at Kanda's face again.

The boy didn't know what he was doing—or  _why_  he was doing it now. He'd gotten a glance of Kanda's sleeping face many times before, being roommates and all. Though Allen had never particularly paid attention to the pretty face, free of frowns with the smooth, silky hair framing his face and falling around his head and onto the mattress

Allen would blame his curiosity later but he really, really wanted to—touch Kanda's hair.

So he did. Just lightly running his fingers through the strands of raven hair, brushing it away from Kanda's face and—he pulled back almost immediately.

Kanda didn't budge.

Well. Allen stepped away anyway. Shaking his head, Allen went back to his homework, trying not to think of how soft Kanda's hair had felt between his fingers.

.

.

.

The next time it happened was when Kanda was—sleeping in. Sort of. He'd been working on a painting for the past three days—Allen could tell from how Kanda always smelled strongly of paint when he got home, and he'd been coming home late, too.

So that weekend, Kanda skipped his morning workout in favor of making up for his lack of sleep. Allen was surprised when he found himself awake around 6.30 and Kanda was still there, on his bed, sleeping like a log.

It was a rare sight, if Allen might say so. Usually, it was Kanda who often found Allen sleeping like the dead, so.

Slowly, Allen got out of bed, stretching for a bit before going to open the curtains and feed Timcanpy and Golem. Putting back the food jar, Allen turned his head to the right, watching as Kanda shifted in his sleep and let out a sigh, turning to his side so he was now facing Allen, and—

Maybe it was the sunlight streaming in through the open window, falling partially upon Kanda's figure, creating soft shades and defining the sharp lines of his face, emphasizing the high cheekbones and the long eyelashes and in Allen's eyes, he just looked really, really pretty.

And before he knew it, Allen was coming close again. A hand slowly reaching out without him even realizing it and the next second, he found the tips of his fingers tracing the shaded part of Kanda's jaw and down and—

Allen pulled back, again. Maybe he should have been mortified at himself and his kinda-sorta-but-not-really molesting Kanda in his sleep but… well.

Kanda was just beautiful, male or not, so it was normal that he'd at least be  _a little_  attracted to him, right? It wasn't like it meant more than physical attraction anyway.

Still, it didn't mean that he should keep doing that. Mentally smacking himself, Allen went to the showers to cool his head. He really should stop touching Kanda while the other was sleeping.

.

.

.

It was Monday afternoon. Allen had just eaten his lunch in the cafeteria nearby and he was now walking with Emilia, about to go practice their piano-violin duo. The cold autumn breeze felt icy on Allen's face, making the boy turn his head to one side. That was when his eyes caught sight of long, dark hair flowing slightly in the wind, and—"Oh, hey, BaKanda!"

His roommate turned to face him, and Allen excused himself to Emilia before lightly jogging in Kanda's direction.

"What?" he was welcomed with an unfriendly scowl and—right. Kanda definitely looked better when he was asleep.

Allen frowned back. "Don't forget to buy some instant noodles on your way back later. We're running out. Oh, and some coffee, please."

"What? Why the heck should I—why don't  _you_  do it?"

"Because, stupid, as I already told you this morning, I have practice with someone—which is  _right now_ , actually. You're done with your classes, aren't you?"

Kanda's frown deepened. "Yes, but it doesn't mean that I have to—"

"Oh, come on. You know I have to stay up late more often these days. I need the sustenance," he tried a pout here, and added, "And you do too, idiot. Like I don't know you've been eating the cup noodles."

"It's the only thing there is. You don't even have some decent food—"

"And yet you're eating it anyway so go buy some," Allen demanded, then seeing the darkening scowl on Kanda's face, he added, "Please?"

Kanda grumbled, but before he could say anything, Allen was already saying "Thank you!" and giving his shoulder a friendly smack—if a little harder than necessary—before walking back to Emilia.

The girl, though, gave Allen a look that was—"Emilia? What is it—?"

"You  _know_  him?" She was now looking at Allen wide-eyed, and Allen blinked.

"Umm. I'm his roommate?" Allen offered, and—"Do you know him?" Allen asked instead, and inwardly wondered if they were acquainted, Kanda could have said hello to Emilia, the prick.

"Of  _course_  I do. Everyone would  _know_  someone with such a beautiful—"

"Oi, Moyashi!"

At the familiar voice and annoying nickname, Allen turned his head to find Kanda already grabbing his arm to halt him. Allen scowled. "The name is  _Allen_ , BaKanda. Are you so retarded for being unable to remember my name after  _so long_?"

"Shut up, bean sprout, what time do you finish your practice?"

Allen raised an eyebrow, then consulted his wristwatch. "Maybe around five, why?"

"You eat like a pig," Kanda began, and Allen let out an indignant  _'hey!'_  but before he could say more, Kanda added, "We'll need to buy  _a lot of food_  for you alone. Like hell I'm going to carry all that stuff. You're coming. Carry your own goddamn food."

Allen was ready to complain but then—well. Fair enough. "Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

Kanda tilted his head in thought. "I'll be in the art studio, so front gate at five. You're late, you're dead." And with that Kanda was gone again without so much as an apology.

"He's such a prick," Allen grumbled to himself, but when he turned back to his friend, the blonde was looking at the direction Kanda had gone to with dreamy eyes. "Umm. Emilia?"

"If you were a girl, I would have killed you out of jealousy," the girl said instead, and added, "It almost sounded like he was asking you out on a date."

 _That_  made the boy blink. Once, twice and—he really wanted to laugh his arse off, because Kanda? Asking him on a date? It was way too absurd.

And yet his cheeks felt slightly warm.

"But really," the girl spoke again, "This is the first time I've ever seen him up close. He's so— _beautiful._ "

Allen quieted down at that, remembering the moments he had spent just looking at Kanda's sleeping face and brushing his hair out of his face and—he felt like such a horrible sap, but... he couldn't agree more.

.

.

.

"Remind me why we came here again?" Kanda asked with a bored face, looking around disinterestedly, taking in the small café they'd entered.

It was a cozy kind of café, with wooden furniture and homey interior. It looked _and_  felt warm, especially when they just came in from the cool autumn breeze.

Allen put down the plastic bags containing the instant food they had bought in the nearby convenient store and looked up at Kanda. "Because it's bloody cold out there and I'm kind of hungry?" the boy offered with ease, knowing he'd practically dragged the other in here. He shifted a little in his seat to give room to the plastic bags on the floor and—his knee knocked against Kanda. Right. Why was this table for two so small anyway?

"You're  _always_  hungry," the older man snorted. "Can't wait for goddamn fifteen minutes until we reach the dorm."

"And eat instant noodles? They won't satisfy my stomach."

"But  _cakes_  would?" Kanda retorted, looking at Allen with a raised eyebrow.

"Mmh, nope," the younger boy shook his head lightly, moving his gaze to the menu instead and trying to decide what to get. "But they'll satisfy my palate."

Kanda snorted. He opened the menu laid in front of him and asked, "Is there anything that is  _not_  sweet?"

"What's your problem with sweet food? You  _stole_  my cookies last time."

"That was different."

"So you finally admit you stole them?" Allen looked up innocently, and it was  _hard_  not to smirk in triumph. He managed to refrain from doing so, though. Kanda glowered darkly at him, and—

"Are you ready to order?"

Both males turned their heads to the feminine voice addressing them, and standing there by their table was a waitress, with a standard business-like smile. Though it changed into something more— _flirty_ as soon as she got a good look on their face—and especially  _Kanda_ , because Allen noticed the way her eyes immediately flicked down Kanda's form, and then up his face, tracing the sharp lines of Kanda's jaw and the high cheekbone with appreciative eyes. Oh yes, Allen knew that look. He'd seen it more often than he cared to remember during his time with his guardian, Cross.

Kanda, though, was as oblivious as always. "One Earl Grey tea and French fries," he recited his order flatly.

The girl jotted down the order in her notepad, but then she looked back at Kanda, and—"Anything  _else_ ," she started, and one of her hands went to the second and third buttons of her shirt and unbuttoned them, and Allen thought— _oh, here it comes_. She bent just  _a little_  forward, showing the cleavage of her ample bosom, "That you'd like to  _order_?"

Kanda didn't bat an eyelid. Heck, he didn't even  _turn_  to look at the waitress as he answered with a flat out, "No."

Allen didn't know if it was appropriate to be amused.

Pouting at the blatant rejection, said waitress—Melinda, her name was Melinda, according to the name tag—turned to face Allen. The Business Smile was all back in place. Well. Allen flashed his own charming, winning smile to the girl, and it got her eyes to light up faster than Allen could blink.

"How about you,  _sweetie_?" she asked.

"Ah yes, I'd like to order hot chocolate, please," Allen started, and when Melinda made  _yet_  another flirty gesture, his smile got all that wider. "Also an extra large blueberry pancake."

The girl seemed to be approving Allen's smile. "Nice choice there, cutie, we serve  _delicious_  pancakes," she told Allen in a lower tone of voice, nearly whispering the word 'delicious' as she licked her lip as if to emphasize.

Allen smiled wider at that, though, tilting his head for effect. "I believe so," the boy began again, "Especially served by someone with beautiful hands like yours, miss Melinda," Allen thought he heard a small, almost inaudible choking noise from Kanda's general direction, but he ignored it for now, in favor of lightly touching the girl's hand, just enough to still be considered a friendly touch.  _That_ seemed to please the girl, especially the mention her name.

"Oh please, drop the miss," Melinda giggled at that and Allen dropped his hand back to the table. "You're such a sweet little boy," Allen's eyebrow ticked at that, knowing that he looked younger than his real age, and Melinda was obviously older, but—"Today's special is muffins. Would you like to try?" Melinda asked, and Allen gleefully thought,  _oh, here it comes—_ "It's on the house," she whispered the last bit.

"Why, thank you! You're much too kind," the British boy replied with practiced ease. "I would like to, as long as it doesn't get you into trouble."

"Oh, no, not at all," Melinda waved a dismissive hand. "Please wait a moment for your orders," she threw one last smile at the both of them—as dictated by the protocols, before turning on her heels and walking away.

 _There_ , Allen thought. That had worked as smoothly as he remembered. If there was something useful he'd learned from his Master, it was—

"What," he heard Kanda say from across the table, so Allen looked up to find Kanda staring at him like—like—"The hell. Was. That?"—like he couldn't decide if he should be mocking Allen or freaked out. And Allen? He didn't know if it was all right to laugh.

"That was called  _'flirting'_ ," Allen snorted, and Kanda's half horrified face only added up to his amusement. Then he smiled a smile that, if someone was actually observant, looked somewhat—old. "Sometimes, Kanda, you have to do things you wouldn't normally do to get things you wouldn't normally have."

Kanda clucked his tongue, looking away. "Don't give me life lessons over you whoring yourself out to get free cakes, bean sprout."

Well  _ouch._ That actually hurt a little more than it should have. "Pardon me if it bothers you but it's how I've been  _surviving_ so far," and now Allen was throwing his gaze out of the window, watching the people passing by, some in a quick, hurried pace and others more leisurely. A yellowing leaf was falling from a branch and danced in the wind to brush against the café's window.

Allen, too caught up in his own thoughts, was a little surprised when Kanda spoke, "You're sulking."

The white haired boy frowned. "Am not," he denied, not looking back at his roommate.

"Are too."

"Am  _not._ "

"Are.  _Too._ "

"You're such a prick," Allen grumbled, closing his eyes in annoyance.

"And you're a kid. Now stop sulking because your goddamn chocolate is  _here_."

At that, Allen blinked his eyes open and turned his head to see Melinda already there, by their small table. A tray containing a mug of his hot chocolate and Kanda's earl grey tea were there, and she was _giggling_.

"Oh my, so you two are like that," she lightly said, setting the steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of Allen's. She turned to face Kanda and winked. "No wonder you didn't react to me."

Oh. Oh  _shit._  "No, Melinda, we're not like tha—"

"Aww, don't worry, sweetie," Melinda smiled reassuringly to Allen, "I have nothing against people like you, really."

"The hell are you talking about?" Kanda frowned in confusion.

"Oh,  _you_ ," Melinda laughed, waving her hand lightly in amusement. "It's  _okay_ , really. Would you like an extra muffin too?"

"What the hell— _no_."

"Oh well, I'll be back with your food," and with that she was gone again, leaving Kanda frowning and Allen gaping unattractively.

"The hell was that all about?"

The genuinely confused tone caught Allen's attention, and he turned back to his roommate and gave him an incredulous look. "Well, obviously she thought that we were—" Wait. On the second thought… Allen sighed. "Never mind. You don't want to know. Trust me."

Kanda looked at him weirdly, but he seemed to let it go. "Yeah, whatever—"

"And  _here_ , is your food," Melinda chirped, placing Kanda's basket of French fries in front of the Japanese, setting down Allen's extra large pancake that took up nearly half of the tiny, tiny table between them, and finally, "And here is your  _special_  muffin~"

Kanda snorted.

Allen glared at the older man, but it wasn't until Melinda was gone that he grounded out, "What?"

" _Special_  muffin," Kanda repeated in a mocking tone, and Allen's brows twitched in annoyance.

"Maybe if you actually taste it, you'll be able to  _understand_  my reasons." Allen gritted out, tearing a pinch of the muffin before leaning forward over the small round table separating them, and, "Here," and he just— _stuffed_  it into Kanda's mouth, taking the older man off-guard.

 _Unfortunately_ , Kanda didn't choke. Instead, he quickly chewed and swallowed the muffin bit, before glaring daggers in Allen's direction, and, "What the hell, bean sprout?"

"It's good, isn't it?" Allen flashed him that annoyingly sweet smile Kanda seemed to hate so much, "I don't get to eat something like this very often, mind you—"

"Then  _eat_ ," Kanda growled and—shoved a piece of muffin into Allen's surprised mouth—when had Kanda even picked up Allen's muffin anyway?

Allen tried not to choke—he nearly did, given the sudden presence of food in his mouth, but he managed. Once he had the muffin all chewed and swallowed, Allen glared back at Kanda. "Were you trying to choke me?"

The long haired male merely snorted. "That's why you don't force food into someone else's mouth. Stupid."

Well, Allen couldn't argue with that. It didn't mean he couldn't get revenge though. So he tore another pinch of the muffin and forced into Kanda's mouth, and he would have smirked in triumph, had Kanda not  _bitten_  his fingers.

It wasn't even hard, but— _Kanda had just bitten him_. The thought itself was enough to send heat up his cheeks, and—"What the bloody—"

Then there were giggles.  _Giggles_. Allen glanced around to find two separate groups of girls looking their way,  _giggling_ , and then Melinda who was standing not too far from them winking, and mouthing, "You two are so cute."

Allen didn't know if he should be upset or not, but Kanda? The bastard nearly gagged.

.

.

.

That night, Allen had gone to sleep earlier than usual, but he randomly woke up in the middle of the night. Allen was sure he had been dreaming, but for the life of him, Allen couldn't remember what it was about.

Maybe he should get a drink. So Allen climbed out of bed, and then he walked slowly to the door. He went to the kitchen, filling his glass with water before taking all in big gulps, and—that had made him feel better already. So he went back to his shared bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.

The room was dark, no lights were on, and the only source of light was the moonlight coming in from the small gap between the curtains. As if out of a habit, Allen's eyes traced Kanda's sleeping form and—he stepped closer, admiring how the relaxed face looked in the darkness and only illuminated by the moonlight.

So far, Allen had always seen Kanda's sleeping face in good lighting, because usually he'd only get the chance when he was pulling an all-nighter working on his assignments. But now—

Now, with the bluish tint of the moonlight, Kanda looked—ethereal. And, well, Allen told himself that this was only because Kanda was pretty, that  _anyone_  would be entranced by such a sight and—he walked closer, kneeling by the bed just to get a better look.

His chrome eyes fell to Kanda's lips, and Allen mused on how those lips could spew out some really foul curses and mean words, and he thought—such a pity. Then again, if Kanda was suddenly all tame and docile, that would freak him out, too.

Since he was kind of staring at Kanda's lips, Allen noticed that they were kind of chapped. Allen brushed his thumb across Kanda's lips, just to make sure and—oh, yes, they  _were_  chapped. Maybe Allen could bully him into drinking some vitamins…

And before he knew it, Allen was leaning closer, and closer, down, down, down until he could feel those lips against his—soft, if a bit chapped. A contrast to the biting remarks that mouth was capable of and—

_What the bloody hell was he doing?_

Allen jerked back up, eyes widening in mortification as he slowly rose from his kneeling position to stand up and back away, until his knees hit the frame of his own bed and—

He fell down on his bed, a hand covering his slightly parted lips as he still stared at Kanda's figure with wide, disbelieving eyes. Had he really just done that?

"I'm half-asleep," Allen told himself. "It didn't mean anything." His face was just there and he was  _just…_  beautiful. So.

Shaking his head Allen dove under the covers and willed himself to sleep. Maybe in the morning his mind would be clearer. And maybe he could just—pretend that this had never happened. Kanda didn't know about this anyway, so—

So maybe, he could just forget.

.

.

.

Well, that didn't happen.

Because starting from the next morning, Allen found himself randomly staring at Kanda's lips for no sane reason.

Allen had tried blaming it on curiosity, though curiosity about what, he had no idea. Maybe he was only staring to make sure the jerk would actually do something about his chapped lips, and not because of the kiss? The prick would better drink those vitamins he'd given him.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he had stopped at staring, but a few days later, Allen found himself in a similar situation to the one in which the first kiss had happened. Kanda's face was  _just there_  and Allen was leaning down before he could stop himself and—

It was wonderful, the feel of Kanda's lips against his. Even if the kiss was brief, and chaste, with lips barely brushing against each other. Allen pulled back almost immediately and started beating himself up mentally for that, but he just couldn't stop.

So help him, Allen found himself stealing kisses from Kanda again, and again, noticing the change of Kanda's lips, from chapped to soft. Maybe he’d been drinking more water lately.

It almost became an irregular, nightly routine. And Allen did feel guilty about it, because he was taking advantage of his roommate in his asleep. And the thought hurt more than he thought it should, but—

But it felt so good that the mere thought of stopping hurt.

He was addicted.

.

.

.

Allen had lost count how many times he'd kissed Kanda in his sleep, but he was sure it hadn't been that many times. The guilt was still there, a dull ache in his chest, but he'd learned to—ignore it. Or at least, to not think much about it.

' _This will be the last.'_

He'd lost count of how many times he'd thought that, too.

That night, Kanda had gone to bed ahead of Allen, having been working on a project for days. It was apparent that Kanda could use some sleep. And Allen?

He'd been missing Kanda's lips.

When Kanda had finally gone to bed, Allen could feel his lips starting to ache. He fiddled with his assignment a little longer than he should, having finished it but he was waiting.

Twenty minutes later, Allen deemed it safe, so he started putting his things away—the keyboard, the pencils and the worksheet—before turning off the light.

Allen peered at Kanda. He'd never done it this soon, it hadn't even been 30 minutes since Kanda had fallen asleep, but… hey, Kanda looked like he was sleeping really, very deeply.

So it was okay, right?

He quietly walked closer to the other's bed, and for a moment, Allen just stood there, watching the way the soft light fell across the other's face. Once again, he kneeled by the bed, brushing strands of hair out of Kanda's face, lightly, and when Kanda didn't budge, Allen leant down further and touched his lips against Kanda's.

He started with a light brush, but somehow, it wasn't enough, so he pressed a little harder, lightly catching Kanda's upper lip between his, and he moved slowly, giving light pressure over the other's lip. Pulling back for a little breather, Allen leaned down again to take Kanda's bottom lip this time, brushing and pressing and—

And suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in warning, and Allen jerked back, wide-eyed.

Kanda was awake, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight, looking like—like—"What. The hell."

And Allen didn't know what to say.

"U-umm I … I didn't … I—"  _what_  exactly? What could he say to justify his act? Well— _nothing_. Because whatever the reason was, Allen had been taking advantage of Kanda and that was … wrong.

So he looked down, not daring to even take a peek to see what kind of expression was there on Kanda's face. Anger? Disgust? …something?

"I'm sorry," he finally said, because at least he owed an apology. He knew that much. "I'm just—you were just there and—and pretty and I was just curious and—"

And Allen shut up, because he didn't know what else to say. Kanda had been silent, and it was unnerving. He'd rather have Kanda yelling at him, throwing mocking words and sarcastic remarks, because—because then he'd know that it was alright. If Kanda stayed silent, however…

"You're curious," Kanda deadpanned, making Allen jolt. He didn't dare looking up form his lap, didn't dare to see what kind of face Kanda was making now, because—

If Kanda was looking at him with disgust, Allen wouldn't be able to take it.

"You're  _curious_ ," Allen flinched at the low tone Kanda was using to repeat his statement. "So you think it's okay to go around kissing just  _anyone_  because you're fucking  _curious_?"

"No!" Allen denied immediately, lifting his face by reflex and even with his excellent night vision, Allen couldn't read the gleam in those dark eyes. Or maybe, he was  _afraid_  to see it. So he looked to the side, feeling his eyes burned and his throat constricted. "No," he choked out, because even Allen himself would like to think he  _wouldn't_ kiss just  _anyone_. But he also knew there was nothing to justify what he'd been doing to Kanda and—

Allen took in a sharp breath, because he was  _not_  about to cry.

Silence hung over them for what seemed to be eternity for Allen, before finally he heard Kanda shifted in bed and said, "Tch. Whatever."

Allen blinked. He looked up to Kanda's face, but the older male was already closing his eyes, with a frown marring his face.

"Wh-what?"

"I said," Kanda growled, "Whatever. I'm too tired for this. So you're curious and I just happened to be here? Fine, it's just a kiss anyway."

Allen frowned at that, feeling the lump in his throat disappearing, and yet he was far from relieved, because—"You say that like it doesn't matter."

"Because it  _doesn't_ ," Kanda groaned his answer as he put an arm to over his eyes, looking so much like he just wanted to go back to sleep or something.

Allen was offended, though. And maybe, a little hurt, because—"Of course it does! Are you half-asleep?" which, Kanda probably  _was_ , but.

He heard the man growl again, and Allen was more than a little surprised when Kanda sat up in his bed to look at Allen. "It's just a  _kiss_ ," Kanda growled at Allen. Suddenly, there was a hand at the back of Allen's head, pulling it in Kanda's direction, closer to his face and—

And their mouths crashed briefly, lips barely brushing against each other, and then Kanda was pulling back, leaving Allen still a little wide-eyed. "There," Kanda muttered with a huff. "Just a kiss. Doesn't mean anything, does it? Now can we go on our merry ways and  _sleep_?"

Allen could only gape as Kanda threw himself back into bed, not quite understanding what he meant and—

Shouldn't he be happy that Kanda didn't make a big deal out of it and kill Allen or something? Or worse ...  _hate_  him?

Allen stared at Kanda's form for a good five seconds, before Kanda's irritated "Go to bed, bean sprout," filled the otherwise silent room.

The dismissal made Allen feel just a little relieved, and maybe, hurt, too. But he needed to rest, clear his head and maybe—maybe he'd think of something to say tomorrow. Maybe they could talk about it when they both were more awake.

For now, though, Allen went back to his bed, body tired and mind full and lips tingling.

.

.

.

It turned out that the next morning, it was as if the kisses had never been there. Allen and Kanda stood in front of the bathroom door, hands on the knob as they tried to push each other off.

"Move," Kanda gritted out, hands tightening halfway over Allen's on the knob.

Allen wouldn't budge either. "No, you move! Your fault for waking up later than usual," Allen ground out slowly.

"Goddammit, you're annoying."

"And you're irritati—ngmmpphhh?"

Allen's eyes were wide as he couldn't finish his sentence because why in the world was Kanda  _kissing_   _him_?

Too surprised by the sudden act, Allen's hand became slack, and Kanda took that chance to push the boy aside, rush into the bathroom and slam the door shut. Allen blinked, and blinked, and now he could feel heat creeping up his face, maybe from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell, but—"Hey, that wasn't fair!" he shouted at the bathroom door.

"You can kiss me in my sleep so why the hell can't I kiss you to get into the bathroom?" came the shouted, if a little nonchalant, reply.

Allen gaped at the door.

Did Kanda just—was this … when Kanda had said it didn't matter, he couldn't possibly have meant it like this?

.

.

.

They didn't talk about it further. Allen never mentioned how he'd been kissing Kanda in his sleep even before that, and Kanda kept being his usual prick-y self. They went on as they were before, but there was one particular difference.

Ever since that day, both of them had taken to kissing each other as some sort of an inside joke, to take the other off guard, or just for the hell of it.

Allen hadn't known what to think at first, his mind trying to make sense of this new _habit_ , but with Kanda, it was hard to do so. The way Allen saw it, Kanda didn't seem to be thinking about this new habit like,  _at all_ , so Allen decided that reasons be damned, he would just go with the flow. If Kanda wasn't thinking about it, then why the hell must he mull over it and hurt his head?

After all, it wasn't like the kisses meant anything. Allen kept that in mind all the time.

Although it had been weird at first, by now Allen had gotten used to them randomly kissing each other on the slightest whim. It was almost like a game, really. Though what was the goal, Allen didn't know.

Like now, they had only been sitting on the couch in the living room and just finished having their dinner—Allen had ordered some Chinese takeout, because he did need to eat something non-instant every now and then.

They had been talking about some stupid TV quiz, then the talked turned into an argument, and he didn't know who had started it, but now they were kissing  _again._  Allen suspected that they had only meant to shut each other up, but the kiss had gotten longer and deeper, and now Allen was busy trying to keep breathing through his nose as he kept fighting off Kanda's tongue to keep from invading his mouth. But it would seem that Allen was losing the air he needed and the fight, so he pulled back, panting, his chest heaving.

Allen didn't know since when he'd been pushed back so that he was leaning heavily against the armrest, the only thing keeping him from lying flat on his back against it were his arms around Kanda's neck and the older man's hands around his back.

Kanda smirked down at him. "You lose."

Oh, right. This was one of those that had turned into a competition, wasn't it? To see who could last longer, but—"How long can you actually hold your breath?" Allen demanded, closing his eyes as he felt  _just_  a little lightheaded from the lack of air and the giddy feeling that kissing brought him. Allen tried not to think much about the latter.

"Unlike you," Kanda began, face still so smug Allen kind of wanted to wipe that grin off his face, "I'm not weak."

Allen scowled. "I don't think it has anything to do with being  _weak_ , prick," the boy retorted, and once he had gained his breathing, Allen pulled himself up, untangling one arm from round Kanda for his leverage on the sofa. His lips were still tingling, and his tongue? Let's not go there. The good thing about this arrangement, though, was that he could have his daily dose of Kanda's kisses, so his craving for them never got too bad anymore.

Seriously, Allen blamed Cross for this. Something must have gone wrong during his upbringing. How come he liked kissing so much that it didn't matter even if it was  _Kanda_  he was kissing?

Although—Kanda was actually a good kisser. Allen thought it wasn't fair. Was he just a fast learner or had he actually had practice before Allen? "Where did you learn to kiss like that anyway?" Allen asked, refraining from using the word "good" because it would only serve to inflate Kanda's ego and then he'd be insufferable.

Kanda only frowned though, eyebrows knitting in what Allen thought was—"What is it to you?" the Japanese finally replied, looking anything but pleased to have to answer the question. "It doesn't matter. Not like this even means anything."

Oh, right. The  _mantra_. It didn't mean anything, these random kisses. They did it just because it felt good, that was all.

"Of course," Allen finally replied, disentangling himself completely from Kanda, and made to stand up. "I'll just wash the dishes."

And with that, Allen picked up their dirty plates and brought them to the kitchen to wash, trying not to think about Kanda's words, because—

It didn't matter.

That was how this whole thing was going to be, and Allen should never forget that.

 

**- _to be continued_ -**

 


	5. Bitter Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding out Kanda suck at taking care of the sick is unsurprising. Finding out Kanda actually has a few mother-hen tendencies, on the other hand…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thanks for waiting. Here's an update for your Christmas Eve~ :D
> 
> Advanced Happy Birthday to Allen Walker! Here's an aDORKable Kanda to take care of you <3

 

 

There was porn on the T.V. screen.

No, no, Allen did not watch it, nor had he been watching it. It was just—it flashed on the TV screen as soon as he turned it on. Allen suspected it might be Michael, since he had noticed the brunette watching something last night, though he didn't know what.

Well. Now he knew.

Michael seemed to have left it halfway through the… 5th 'track' or so, when the man and woman were in the middle of... doing things. And now they were kissing each other senseless as their hands moved to—

The front door was opened and closed quietly, and before Allen could grapple with the remote to shut it off, Kanda was already walking there, frowns deepening at the not-so-quiet moaning sounds coming out of the T.V., and—

And then Kanda was there, frowning at the scene on the T.V., then back at Allen, who was only blushing because he  _knew_  how this looked to Kanda. "It was  _Michael_ ," Allen said defensively.

Kanda merely raised an eyebrow, before looking back to the T.V. screen with mild disdain, then back to Allen's face. "Really, now?" he asked and then he— _smirked_.

Oh.  _Oh,_  Allen knew that face. Kanda was—messing with him, wasn't he?

The moaning still continued from the telly, but Allen managed to control his blush and act like it was all cool. Even though on the TV screen, the man and the woman were Frenching quite soundly, tongues tangling and the frequent moans getting even louder.

Kanda looked slightly uncomfortable.

Allen smirked inwardly. "So," he began casually, tilting his head to the T.V. direction, "You think that's _doable_?"

"What the  _hell_?"

"That," Allen tilted his head, indicating the Frenching on TV, complete with the awkward position and wet, smooching sounds. "I wonder if they'd get a crick on the neck," he rubbed his chin contemplatively, and it was fairly easy to keep his face flat with how many times he'd walked in on Cross back then.

Taking a glance at Kanda's face, Allen hid a smirk as another frown was forming on his face. Oh yes, even if Kanda was putting on a stoic-annoyed face, Allen could catch the discomfort from the porn playing on T.V.

"Oh, and they've been at it for a long time now. Do you think their tongues are going to be sore? I mean, I don't know about you but the last time we tried, I was—mmph!"

There Kanda went again, shutting him up with a kiss. He seemed to think that it was an effective way of shutting Allen up and—well. Kanda wasn't exactly wrong. The next thing Allen knew, he was a little breathless and Kanda was frowning down at him.

"If you're not watching it, turn it off," Kanda tilted his head into the telly's direction, before pulling away completely and—frowned some more. "You look pale."

"Huh? My skin  _is_  pale, though," Allen waved him off. "Maybe it's just the lighting."

Kanda kept staring at him for a moment, before finally sighing. "Whatever," he said and proceeded to walk away to their bedroom.

Well.

Allen mentally shrugged and turned off the video, fiddling with the remote to find something interesting on TV. He'd been cooped up in his room for practically the whole day, sleeping his day off after nearly not sleeping these past two days. He had wanted to just watch some TV, since he thought he had stayed in his bedroom long enough.

Settling on a cartoon channel, Allen leaned back on the couch. Ever since he woke up, he had been feeling rather unwell. He'd woken up with heavy limbs, feeling a little warmer and a lot lazier than usual. He did feel a little lethargic, too, but Allen didn't think much of it. Maybe a little bit of relaxing in front of the TV instead of staying cooped up would do some good.

It wasn't long before he dozed off, the open window letting in the cool autumn breeze lulling him to sleep.

.

.

.

Allen woke up to an insistent poking on his shoulder, and he curled even more into himself. He was cold; he just wanted to go back to sleep and go somewhere warm on the Lala Land. But then he was tugged up, and Allen groaned. "Wha—?"

"The hell are you sleeping here with the window  _open_?" he heard Kanda say, but Allen's eyes refused to open. He felt himself being pulled up now. "You'll catch a goddamn cold. Come on, get to your bed."

Allen groaned again, muttering incomprehensible things, but he didn't fight the hand dragging him back to his bedroom. His eyes felt like they were glued shut, and Allen was leaning heavily against Kanda. But as soon as they were in the room, Kanda dumped him on his bed. Before Allen could complain against it, though, his roommate had already thrown the covers messily over him, and since Allen was rather cold, it was too easy just to pull the blanket tighter over him and curl up.

Settling comfortably in his bed, wrapped in the warm, warm blanket, Allen soon drifted off to sleep.

.

.

.

The next time he woke up, it was to a pounding in his head. He had wanted to go back to sleep, but just as he was debating this, his alarm clock went off. With difficulties, Allen managed to drag himself up to a sitting position. Rubbing his face a few times, Allen finally opened his eyes slowly, just in time with Kanda slipping into a new shirt as he was about to go to his class.

"…you okay?"

Allen shook his head a little, trying to get rid of the dizziness. If  _Kanda_  even bothered to ask him that, he must look pretty bad. "Yeah. Just—need to wake up a bit more," he replied, placing a hand over his forehead.

Kanda frowned. "I have to go submit a project now," he started, and Allen looked up at that. "Don't go back to sleep."

Somehow, it really made him want to smile. "Yes, mother," he answered, waving a hand and grinning at Kanda even through the headache.

Kanda grumpily muttered something as he was putting things into his backpack, zipping it closed, before finally leaving the room.

Well.

Trying to muster his lost energy, Allen stumbled his way to the bathroom. Seriously, he hadn't felt this sick in a long time. Did he exhaust himself? Pulling all-nighters for three days in a row and sleeping on the couch with the window open might be the cause.

Thankfully, he had no morning classes, but he had to meet Lenalee in two hours or so. Though now he felt like— _wait, wait, not now, not—_

Allen staggered as fast as he could to the bathroom, but before he could reach the toilet bowl, the bile in his throat rose up and he fell on his knees, vomiting violently onto the tiled floor.

He hacked a few more times, proceeding to empty what was left in his stomach until nothing was left to throw up.

Feeling drained, Allen's body gave in and he was about to collapse. At the last minute, Allen managed to throw himself to the other direction of his vomit, so that now his upper body was lying on the rug in front of the bathroom.

His breathing was ragged, and Allen knew he had to get up and clean, but his body felt so weak that he couldn't really move. He didn't even have it in him to be disgusted even when he felt the tip of his toes touch the vomit.

He had to get help. He had to—

In the midst of his clouded mind, Allen remembered that he had fallen asleep with his cell phone still in his pants pocket, so with some effort, he pulled it out. Forcing his eyes open, Allen fiddled with his phone, finding Kanda's name in his contact list—because he was the only one Allen could think of right now.

The phone call was answered after the fifth ring. " _What?_ " came the gruff response.

Allen opened his mouth to say something, but he gasped instead, and coughed a few times, before managing a small, "S'ry… Threw up…can't move."

A moment of silence, and then, " _Where are you?_ "

If Allen was more aware, he might have noticed the quite apparent worried tone, but as it was, Allen could barely keep himself coherent enough to talk. "Bathroom floor," he gasped out, before going back to coughing.

" _Shit,_ " he heard Kanda swear, but before he could say anything to that, Kanda spoke again, " _Okay. I'm coming now. Just—don't pass out or something._ "

"Thanks," Allen mumbled into the phone, his eyebrows meeting in a frown due to the headache. He ended the phone call and—yes, Kanda told him not to pass out, but maybe… he could just close his eyes for a bit?

.

.

.

Allen didn't know how long he'd been lying on the floor like that. All he knew was that he was feeling really cold and there was the sound of the bedroom door being thrown open, and then there were footsteps coming closer.

He tried to force his eyes open, but the lids felt heavy and his head was pounding. Groaning in discomfort, he was a bit thankful when a cool hand was pressed against his heated forehead. He tried to say something, but it came out as incoherent mumble instead. And really? The tip of the rugs brushing his nose was getting uncomfortable.

There was a quiet curse, before that hand on his forehead was pulled back. Allen made a disappointed noise at that, but soon, he heard the water running. The next moment, he was being turned over and a wet cloth was pressed to his face, wiping his mouth and chin and—Allen forced his eyes open.

Kanda was looking right back at him. "Umm—s'ry, th' floor… messmmff," his disjointed sentence was cut off when the wet towel was wiped over his mouth again. Allen made a protesting noise.

"Shut the hell up," Kanda simply said, finished with cleaning Allen's face. Thankfully, there was no vomit on his shirt.

Putting Allen's head back down to the floor, Kanda stood up again, and Allen kind of missed the warmth already. He blamed the cold floor.

A few moments later, Allen felt his right foot was lifted and wiped—oh right, it got vomit on it—and then he was maneuvered again. Hearing the sounds akin to someone mopping, Allen figured Kanda was probably cleaning up his mess. If he had been in a more coherent state he might've felt really bad about it, but right now he could only mumble something that may or may not be an apology, and a complaint about the floor being cold.

Kanda sighed then, putting away the cleaning utensils, even when he wasn't finished cleaning. He washed his hands and dried them on the hand towel, before walking back to the bathroom door where Allen was sprawled halfway through and—lifted him up.

Allen was mumbling something again, though he might not know what he was saying. All he knew was that the cold, hard floor was no more, and there was warmth on his right side. So he turned his head and buried his face in that source of warmth that just so  _happened_  to be Kanda's  _chest_.

"You didn't just  _nuzzle_  my—tch. Big baby."

Said 'big baby' didn't even bother to counter that, because his head was still pounding. He needed it to stop. Maybe if he could just fall asleep…

He felt himself dumped on the mattress, and Allen groaned in complain. Before he could even rant on Kanda about the concept of being gentle, the blanket was already thrown over him. Forcing his eyes open, Allen was welcomed by the sight of dark blue pillow cover and—when he turned his head, he noticed that—the blanket covering him was of a dark color instead of his fluffy, white one.

Oh. "But—this is your bed," Allen mumbled in a rather hoarse voice, trying to focus his eyes on Kanda who was—messing with the cover until he was wrapped properly.

"Shut up," Kanda said once he was done. "It's closer. Now just sleep." And with that said, Kanda walked back to the bathroom to continue cleaning.

Well. Allen was far too lethargic to do anything, so he just curled up further under the blankets, snuggled the pillow. Before long, Allen fell asleep to Kanda's scent surrounding him.

.

.

.

He was awoken by a thermometer being forced into his mouth.

Allen scowled and he really wanted to—gag or something, because its taste in his mouth really didn't help him feel any better. "What the bloody—" Allen pulled it out, "Don't  _shove_ it into my mouth, you—"

"What, you'd rather I stick that thing into your ass?" Allen gaped at that, but Kanda merely snorted. "Tch. Big baby."

"M'not," he retorted weakly, relenting and bearing with the discomfort of the thermometer inside his mouth when it really didn't want to be intruded by anything. But he just leaned back against the pillow, watching the way Kanda sat on his bedside with crossed arms, staring at the contraption intently.

Not long after, the thermometer beeped, and Kanda pulled it out of Allen's mouth, checking the temperature shown on the device. The way his roommate looked at it as if it had done him a personal offense didn't bode well for Allen.

"Umm," Allen started, but before he could ask, the digital thermometer was shoved in front of his face. 103.1 F. Well.

"The hell have you been doing anyway? Idiot."

It kind of offended him, to be honest. Allen pouted. "It's not like I  _wanted_  to get sick—"

Kanda was tugging him up, fussing with the pillow to prop him up on the bed before he could even complain. Then, there was a cup of hot tea held out in front of his nose. Allen blinked once, twice, and—"Drink," came the command.

"Oh. Thanks," Allen mumbled, slowly accepting the cup of tea with both hands and sipping it bit by bit. It was kind of bitter, but maybe it was his taste buds messing up due to the sickness. Or Kanda really just didn't put any sugar in it.

He gulped the tea down with some difficulty, and he was just glad that he managed to keep it down.

"You need to take some meds," Kanda started again, but it was more like he was talking to himself. "But you need to eat first. Yeah."

"Umm. You don't have to—"

"Shut up," Kanda cut him off before standing up and walked out of the room with a quiet click.

Sighing, Allen finished the rest of the tea and set the cup aside on Kanda's desk by the bed before leaning back against the pillow. This position helped lessen the sick feeling somewhat, but he still felt like crap. And—right, he had an appointment with Lenalee soon, hadn't he? At this rate, he wouldn't be able to make it.

Allen found his phone lying on the desk. Kanda had probably picked it up when he'd brought Allen here earlier, because Allen didn't remember putting his phone back into his pocket, but—whatever. He started composing a text message to Lenalee, letting her know of his condition and that they might have to cancel the appointment later. After sending it, Allen set his phone aside and shifted to get more comfortable to doze off a bit.

It wasn't long that Kanda was back with something that looked like some—soup? Porridge? A cross between the two? Allen didn't dare ask, although he was really tempted, especially once Kanda shoved that bowl of— _something_ —for him to—"Eat."

Allen stared. "Umm." Did he have to—eat it? "You don't have to—"

"Bean sprout.  _Eat_."

Peering at the food hesitantly, the boy accepted the bowl and start spooning the—porridge-soup-whatever and brought it close to his mouth, blowing on it to get it a little cooler. Slowly, he took a bite of said food and—

_Ugh._

Okay. So the taste was probably not that bad. Just—the texture was…weird and—and Kanda was getting impatient, so he took the bowl and the spoon from Allen's hands and took it upon himself to—"Wait, what are you doing?"

Because Kanda was spooning the porridge-soup, filling half the surface and now that spoon was—nudging Allen's lips.

" _Eat,_ " Kanda growled instead.

Allen frowned at his roommate. "But I—" Once he had opened his mouth, the spoon was shoved inside, and he had no choice but to swallow it—since he didn't even have to chew. Then, he looked up at Kanda. "But I really don't feel like eating." And now he was pouting.

Maybe it was his taste buds, or maybe because he had just thrown up. But it was difficult to swallow, not to mention keep the food down. He managed it just now, but he wasn't sure if he would—

Kanda was nudging another half-filled spoonful to his lips. This time, Allen wouldn't budge, defiantly clamping his mouth shut and shaking his head lightly.

 

 

Kanda let out an exasperated sigh. "You never refuse food."

Well. Allen did now. He shook his head again.

There was a low growl coming from Kanda, and Allen thought,  _uh-oh_ , because—usually, that never  _was_  a good sign.

Kanda put the bowl on his desk, but not the spoon. With his now-free hand, he grabbed Allen's jaw, and Allen's eyes widened in surprise. "Eat." He pressed on Allen's jaw, trying to force his mouth open while nudging the spoon to his lips and—

"Hey Allen, are you okay? You said you were—oh."

Both boys turned their heads and—by the door that had just slammed open stood Lenalee. She was holding a paper bag in one hand while her other hand was in front of her mouth, forming a small 'o' and—she was staring at them.  _Them_ , being Kanda still holding Allen's jaw and trying to feed Allen, while the sick boy had both hands on Kanda's wrist, attempting to force the offending limb away.

Taking in the sight, Lenalee went, "Aaaawwwww…"

Then, before neither of the boys had the time to react, she fished out her cell phone, and— _click._

Silence.

"…what the hell, woman?"

Allen groaned.

Kanda, though, took that opening to shove the food into Allen's mouth and—Allen looked ready to gag. " _Shit_."

Kanda immediately took the glass of water he'd prepared before and offered it to Allen, trying to make him drink it, but Allen gagged even more and—

"Oh here, you can't give him water," Lenalee cut in, hurrying to Allen's side while fishing out a box of apple juice from the paper bag. She inserted the straw into the box and moved in between Allen and Kanda, holding the straw close to Allen's lips. "Here, Allen, sip this."

Managing to keep his food down, Allen leaned forward to take the straw between his lips and started sipping the apple juice. At least, his throat did not decide that it didn't like it, so Allen was able to drink a lot of it.

"Th-thanks," Allen whispered once he was done drinking, and he leaned back against the pillow.

Lenalee turned to Kanda, and seeing his confused face, she elaborated, "When he's sick, Allen can't take water. Give him apple juice—it's easier for him to keep it down." She put the juice box on the desk.

"By the way," Allen glanced at his best friend, "Why are you here? And how did you get in?"

"Oh, since I was already in the area and you were apparently too sick to meet me, I thought I'd come visit you," the girl explained, smiling. "And a guy opened the door for me. You know, brown hair, freckles—"

"Michael was here?" Allen perked up. If he was here, then Allen could have asked help from Michael instead of making Kanda come back just to take care of him. He turned to Kanda, looking apologetic. "Sorry…"

Kanda, though, only raised an eyebrow. "Why are you apologizing?" And before Allen could say anything, Kanda cut him off with a, "Tch. Whatever," and looked away.

Well.

"By the way," Lenalee began, turning to face Kanda now, and asked, "What did you try to make him eat?"

Kanda scowled, holding the bowl just  _a little_ protectively. "Food," he answered simply.

"Very eloquent," Allen remarked, feeling well enough to at least throw a sarcastic comment.

"Bean sprout. Shut up."

Lenalee let out a giggle, and both boys quieted down. Turning to Kanda, she said, "Here, let me," and proceeded to take the bowl from Kanda's hands. She brought it close to her nose, then stirred  it with the spoon. "Hmm, it smells fine, just a little too liquid."

"None of your bus—"

"Kanda. Be nice," Allen frowned, then seeing the darkening scowl, he added, "Please?" Kanda scowled, but he said nothing more, so Allen offered him a smile. "Oh, by the way, this is Lenalee Lee, my best friend," Allen introduced her, then as an afterthought, he added, "The one who baked the cookies you stole."

Kanda growled at the mention of The Incident, but Lenalee just giggled again. "Don't worry, I brought you guys cookies this time, too. Enough for the both of you."

It was almost funny, Allen thought, to see Kanda's scowl falter even  _just_  a little. "Thank you, Lenalee," Allen said instead. "This is Yuu Kanda, by the way." Like Lenalee didn't know that already.

"Oh, I've heard _a lot_ about you," Lenalee giggled. "Wow, you really  _do_  have beautiful hair."

"What the f—"

"Umm. She really  _appreciates_  nice hair, Kanda," Allen interjected, trying to convey the message via their eyes, telling Kanda to just  _shut up_  for once.

"Anyway," the girl cut in again, "I see that Kanda here hadn't been really successful in making you eat. So here, say 'ah'." Now Lenalee had the spoon in front of Allen's mouth. What was with people trying to make him eat anyway?

"Umm, Lena, I really don't feel like—"

" _Al-len!_ " Oh, Allen hated it when Lena used that tone. And even though she was smiling, she looked quite intimidating. "Say.  _Ah_."

Allen relented, not wanting to upset Lenalee, because it wouldn't end well. It really wouldn't. So he opened his mouth, taking in the soup-porridge hybrid into his mouth and swallowing it obediently.

Not giving Allen too much chance to breathe and say he'd had enough, Lenalee was already nudging his lips with another spoonful, smiling that same smile that gave no room for argument. Allen opened his mouth reluctantly and accepted the food.

Every now and then, Lenalee would give him the apple juice to help him keep down the food, and—well. It had worked better than he'd expected.

That was, at least, until he noticed Kanda waskinda sorta pacing restlessly, going from sitting down in his desk chair to walking across the room and fiddled with his art supplies, and finally, he loomed over Lenalee before snatching the bowl.

"This is  _my_  bed," he started in a low growl. "I don't want you people mess it up  _further_  than you already did."

Allen blinked, and—oh right. This  _was_  Kanda's bed. He wouldn't want it to be dirty, right?

Lenalee, though, was blinking for another reason. "It's his bed?" she asked Allen, and the boy nodded, then Lenalee turned to Kanda now, "So—you'd rather… do  _that_  yourself," she indicates to the bowl in Kanda's hands, and when Kanda merely scowled but  _not_  denying, Lenalee tapped her chin. "Hmmmmmmmmm…"

Oh, how Allen hated it when she hummed like that—like she knew something he didn't, and the mirth in her eyes was too obvious to ignore. "What?"

"Nothing," she replied in a sing-song voice, before standing up and backed away. "I'll just use your kitchen to make your meal for dinner later. And Kanda, you have to make sure he eats it, okay?" And with that, Lenalee left with a wink, leaving Kanda frowning and Allen groaning.

"Tch, whatever," Kanda shrugged it off, fiddling with the cutlery before spooning the porridge and bringing it to Allen's lips. This, time, Allen no longer bothered to argue, because—what was the point?

Though really, Kanda didn't need to be that rough. Allen cringed when the metal spoon clashed against his teeth.

"Seriously," he started once he'd swallowed, "You suck at this."

"Shut up," Kanda took another spoonful and shoved it into Allen's not-so-waiting mouth, "At least I don't suck enough to  _faint_  on the bathroom floor."

"Hey, it's not like I wanted to—mpff!" he quickly swallowed another spoon of the porridge, before scowling deeply at Kanda. "Did you want to make me choke or something?"

"Shut the hell up and  _eat_. Just a little more," Kanda replied, showing Allen the bowl and—indeed, it probably would only take two to three spoons.

"No need to be so rough," Allen pouted, but he obediently opened his mouth when Kanda brought yet another spoon of the food. "Seriously, you should just kiss me."

Kanda blinked. "Wha—?"

"That way," Allen paused to take the food offered to his mouth and quickly swallowed, "I can transfer my virus and germs to you. Then I'll get better, and you'll get sick. But I promise to take care of you then. I can do it  _better_ than you anyway."

Kanda snorted, spooned the last bit of the porridge and brought it up into Allen's mouth. "Yeah, no thanks, no kiss until you get better. I'm  _not_  getting your germs. It's disgusting."

The answer was actually kind of expected from Kanda, but Allen couldn't help feeling a little hurt. He didn't want to dwell on it, though. So instead, he huffed and crossed his arms. "Meanie."

A raised eyebrow was the response he got. "Really? 'Meanie'? Are you twelve?" Kanda snorted again, setting the bowl aside on his desk and grabbed a tissue to wipe Allen's mouth. The boy felt his heart skipped a beat, but he dismissed it as surprise.

"I'm not—"

"And you're the one who wants to be kissed so you can transfer your stupid virus and get me sick. Now who's the one being a 'meanie’?"

Well. Allen couldn't counter that. Nor could he say that he really just wanted to be kissed…wait. Where did that come from? But before Allen could mull over it, Kanda was shoving the apple juice and his medicine in front of his nose.

"Take this and sleep. I'll go help your friend. Or something."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," Allen answered. Kanda grunted, but before he could walk away, Allen stopped him again, asking, "What about your project?"

Kanda turned his head, a confused frown on his face. "What?"

"Your project. You said this morning that you had to submit it soon, right? Did you make it or—" Or did Allen stop him on his way with a stupid phone call because he bloody fainted on the bathroom floor?

"It's fine," Kanda replied curtly and—and Allen just  _knew_  that—Kanda didn't go submitting it because he was calling. He couldn't help feeling really guilty for that.

Allen looked down, his hands fiddling with the blanket covering him up to his waist. "I'm sor—"

"I said it's  _fine_. I've talked to the professor. He said to submit it tomorrow morning, so..." Kanda shrugged at that, and then proceeded to grab the empty bowl. "Drink that," Kanda looked pointedly at the medicine, before stalking out of the room, not even giving Allen a chance to say thanks.

.

.

.

Allen only realized he'd dozed off at some point, when his eyes fluttered open at the feel of a cool hand on his forehead. This time, the hand was slender, the fingers were slim. Just when he opened his eyes, the hand was pulled back, and he could hear voices—Lenalee?

He blinked his eyes opened, and once he was more aware of his surroundings, Allen could vaguely make out what was said—Lenalee giving instructions to Kanda on feeding? What? Allen groaned a little, and it caught their attention.

"You're awake?" came Lenalee's gentle voice, and Allen could barely keep his eyes open long enough before they were closed again. His head felt fuzzy. And it was like he was pulled back to sleep. He heard a chuckle, before Lenalee spoke again, "It's okay, go back to sleep. I'll be going now. And don't worry, Kanda will take care of you." A pause, and then, "Right, Kanda?"

"Shut up," came the grunted response.

Allen mumbled something, trying to make it coherent but apparently failing, because Lenalee was giggling again. He heard footsteps coming closer and tried to force his eyes to open, but then there was,  _again_ , a hand on his face, this time bigger, stronger, and it was covering his eyes, forcing his eyelids close.

"Just go back to sleep, moron."

This time, Allen didn't need to be told twice.

.

.

.

By that night, after sleeping much longer than he felt he had for these past few days, Allen was feeling better enough. So when Kanda brought him the porridge Lenalee had made earlier that day, Allen could  _at_   _least_  eat by himself. And it wasn't as hard to keep the food down, although he still had to eat slowly instead of _inhaling_  his food, as Kanda would put it.

His fever had gone down too. His temperature was still warmer than normal, but it was far better now. Though he was still kind of lethargic, Allen was sure he could muster the few steps to get to his own bed, but for some reason, Kanda wasn't kicking him out yet, and Allen was too lazy to move if he didn't have to. Maybe, Kanda was—actually being  _really_  nice?

Or maybe not.

Because right now, Kanda was—munching on Lenalee's cookies with a self-satisfied smirk,  _right in front of him_! Kanda  _knew_  Allen couldn't eat the cookies yet. His favorite sweets were, ironically, his enemy when he was sick like this.

And yet there Kanda was, eating the cookies  _right there,_  on his desk chair now placed by the bedside, as if to mock him.

"Don't eat them all," Allen managed through gritted teeth because—yes, Lenalee had brought twice the amount she had given him last time, but still.

Kanda just raised an eyebrow, biting on another cookie and chewing with sound crunching noises. Damn.

"At least give me a taste," Allen mumbled sulkily.

"No," was the flat respond. "That Lee girl told me not to give you this until you've recovered. And I  _don't_  need you gagging while you're in  _my_  bed."

And that was exactly what Allen was wondering about. Why hadn't Kanda kicked him out and to his own bed? Or maybe Kanda just  _forgot_  there was such an option in the first place? Who knew, Kanda could be dumb. Sometimes. "So I can throw up if it's in my own bed?" he asked instead.

Kanda's frown deepened. "No, I don't need germs in this room. I sleep here."

There he went about germs again. "Never knew you were a health freak," Allen commented, pouting still.

"Would you just shut up and take your medicine?" Kanda simply responded, shoving the bottle of Allen's medication in front of his nose.

Having no other choice—and he  _did_  want to get better—Allen obeyed, taking the pill even though it was bitter against his tongue. The taste of the pill nearly made him want to gag, but Kanda already held out the apple juice in front of his face. Allen took it gratefully and sipped.

"…I still want the cookies," he said after a moment of (almost) peaceful silence. Kanda gave him a  _look_ , but Allen didn't falter. "Just one bite? I just want a taste."

" _No._ "

"Oh, come  _on_! You're not my mother or something, so why should you forbid me to  _eat cookies_? And besides, at the rate you're eating, God knows, they will all be gone when I'm not looking and—mmphhh?"

And this, Allen thought, must be the shut-up kiss. Although he couldn't help feeling a little perplexed, because—didn't Kanda say no kiss until he was better? But right after he thought that, Kanda pulled away, and he was going back to munching the cookies.

"Wh-why?" Allen started, "I thought you didn't want to kiss me?"

Kanda sighed at that, before turning to face Allen again. "It got you to  _shut up_ ," he shrugged. "And if you can start being annoying, then you're well enough," his roommate added with a snort.

What a typical Kanda argument. "Then kiss me again," Allen blurted out before he could help himself. It was actually embarrassing, yes, no matter how much he tried to sound casual. "I could barely taste the cookies on your lips earlier," he reasoned.

Kanda was looking at him funny though, and Allen nearly wanted to just hide under the blankets  _right then_. But then the jerk snorted and in a half-amused, half-mocking tone, he asked, "You like these cookies  _that much_?"

 _Yes,_  Allen wanted to tell himself, but—he knew it wasn't just that. He was craving the kiss,  _again_ , and he could only blame it on the fever. He  _had_  to.

But when Kanda relented and leaned in, Allen decided to stop thinking, focusing instead on the feel of Kanda's lips against his. He closed his eyes after a while, and poked his tongue out to sweep against the other's lips, tasting the remnants of the sweets there. But then Kanda parted his lips, and he didn't even bother fighting when Allen slipped his tongue inside, roaming around greedily to lick whatever crumbs of cookies were left in there—or that was what he'd like to think he was looking for. Not the taste of Kanda's insides, or the warmth of his mouth, or—

Kanda pushed back then, probably feeling he'd given Allen enough leeway, so he was now fighting back—or he  _would_   _have_  had to fight back if Allen didn't simply retreat and let Kanda invade his mouth.

It was rather slow, and maybe a little sloppy, but Allen thought Kanda was trying not to be as rough as he normally would. Allen tilted his head trying to give more access, and unconsciously, his arms reached up clutch at Kanda's back, pulling him closer and—

They fell back on the bed with a yelp and a swearword, effectively breaking the kiss and leaving Allen blinking up at Kanda, who was kinda-sorta unintentionally pinning him down to the bed.

Well. This was awkward.

Kanda pulled away as soon as he'd snapped out of it, and Allen didn't even get to say sorry before Kanda was off the bed. "Just go rest for now. The meds should be working soon."

"Umm—yeah. I'll just go back to my bed," he mumbled, not looking up at Kanda and went straight to his bed. Once there, he fiddled with his blanket, pulling it up to his shoulders before turning to his side to face the wall, because—

"G'night, Kanda."

"Night."

—because his face felt too warm that he was sure he couldn't blame on the fever. His heart was beating a little too fast for his liking, and his lips were still tingling.

Although—maybe it was his taste buds messing up due to his sickness, or maybe it was because he  _had_  to keep reminding himself that—that it meant  _nothing_ , but…

The kiss left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

 

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[psst, are you guys excited for the new DGM season next year? Coz I am SUPER excited! It'll definitely make me write more, ehe...]]


	6. Flashlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's called the butterfly in the stomach, you know," Lenalee said lightly and Allen choked on his soda. No, no, he didn't want to go there. And besides, it was Kanda, the prick who acted like a five-year-old. A terribly good-looking five-year-old that kissed like a champ, but a five-year-old nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SECOND TO LAST! There's a bonus in this chapter. ;)
> 
> *throws Kanda and Allen at you readers* please enjoy!

 

 

For some reason, Lenalee seemed to be very interested in Kanda. She kept asking questions about him whenever she called. Or when she was  _here,_  hanging out with Allen in his dorm, because apparently, her motherly instinct kicked in and she was making sure Allen was recovering after he got sick last time.

It would have been fine and all, but—well. Allen was trying to finish an assignment, and here Lenalee was asking, "Say, where do you think Kanda is? It's pretty late and he's not back yet? He doesn't strike me as the type who hangs out with his friends until late at night."

Allen snorted. "I wonder if he even has  _friends_ ," he grumbled, still trying to think of a phrase to fill the blanks in the lyric he was trying to compose. "And if he's not back until this late then he's probably painting in the studio," he added absentmindedly.

"Painting, huh."

Looking up from his worksheet, Allen asked, "You know, I might actually  _think_  you're interested in Kanda if you keep asking about him like that." And now he was frowning at Lenalee and—

She laughed. "Really now? Are you, by any chance,  _jealous_?"

And  _that_  made Allen splutter. "What—NO! Why did you even—"

"You know, if you get all worked up like that, I'm going to assume it's true," she said lightly as she picked a cookie out of the jar. Yes, so she had brought Allen and Kanda another batch of cookies, since Allen had complained that Kanda had eaten most of them last time.

"That's not—"

_Beep. Beep. Beeeeep._

Allen blinked, mouth still open from the unsaid retort. He turned his head back to the desk and noticed his phone flashing.  _Gotta be a text message_. Grabbing his phone, Allen was only a little surprised to find Kanda's name flashing on the screen.

He hit the button to read the message, and—

_/ Got paint on my hair /_

Allen couldn't help the smile stretching on his face. His thumb quickly danced across the keypad to form a reply and it said:

_/ what the HECK did u do? Stupid. Just come home n wash it then, u can even use my shampoo :p /_

_/ who needs your stupid shampoo anyway? /_

_/ well it's certainly better than using soap to wash ur hair. Dork. /_

"You know, Allen," Lenalee suddenly spoke, reminding Allen of her presence in the room, "I've really gotta ask—who are you texting~?" she asked with a grin.

Allen eyed the girl warily. "It's just the idiot Kanda, why?"

"Oh? So he likes to text?" that was—a little unexpected, if she might say so.

And now that Allen thought about it—"Sort of? Usually he tells me to go buy stuff or to do something for him. Or just something random..." Though the last bit had only started recently. Maybe Kanda finally got the gist of using his touch-screen phone. The guy could be a little technologically illiterate.

The smile on Lenalee's lips grew that much wider, and Allen wasn't sure if he liked it.

"What?"

Lenalee shook her head. "Nothing, just—you know, you were smiling." At Allen's raised eyebrow, she continued, "Usually, people smile when they get texts from someone they  _like_. So."

"Wh—no, I—it's just because he said something stupid!" Allen  _thought_  he was going to choke from the words rushing from his throat in denial, and—why was he so flustered? He did  _not_ have to be flustered just because—

"Hmmm~"

Allen groaned. "Stop 'hmm'-ing at me," he scowled, "I hate it when you do that."

But Lenalee just let out a small chuckle. "Why? Because I know something that you don't?"

"No, just—" Allen didn't know what to say to counter her and—right. The assignment. "Look, I need to submit this tomorrow morning. Just—leave, okay, I need to concentrate," he finally said, half-pleading.

Lenalee just laughed, taking no offense because Allen looked quite embarrassed. "Alright, alright. Say hi to Kanda for me?"

Allen frowned again. "Yes, okay, I will." Lenalee laughed again, and Allen's frown deepened. "What?"

"Nah. You're so cute," she said, ruffling Allen's hair and winking, before  _finally_  taking her leave.

Sighing, Allen went back to his assignment then, trying to concentrate and get back to the words for the lyric he was working on, ignoring what Lenalee had said.

.

.

.

When Kanda came back about fifteen minutes later, though, Allen couldn't help laughing a bit, seeing the yellow paint on the tip of Kanda's sidebangs. He got up from his bed and walked closer to Kanda and—without thinking, took the strands of Kanda's hair into his hand, examining it.

"What the heck did you  _do_?" he couldn't help but ask, lips still formed in something that might be more than just a teasing smile. "Did you try to paint with your hair or something?"

Kanda growled lowly in his throat—threateningly, but that just made Allen laugh harder. "Shut the hell up."

"Y-yellow suits you," Allen managed between laughter, eyes sparkling with mirth and something akin to fondness. But he didn't get to continue laughing because Kanda was shutting him up again.

Read: Kanda was  _kissing_  him.

It didn't last long, but it was enough to make his laughter die down.

"I'm going to shower," Kanda said as soon as he pulled back, and then he just turned away to grab his towel and new clothes before disappearing behind the bathroom door. And Allen? He just stood there, staring in the bathroom direction a little longer than necessary, because—

His lips tingled longer than necessary, too.

.

.

.

There was something wrong with his stomach. Allen couldn't quite remember when exactly it started, but he thought maybe it was time for him to consume less instant food and more of real food. His stomach kept fluttering at odd times.

Like now—it was still fine when he was lazing around eating the cookies and reading a book, accompanied by his soothing music collection flowing through the earphones. Then Kanda came back and found that Allen almost ate all of the cookies, so he came over to Allen's bed and immediately inserted his hand into the cookie jar—but Allen slapped his wrist lightly.

"Have you even washed your hands?" he asked with a scowl.

Kanda snorted, shifting his backpack so he could ransack it for a bottle of hand sanitizer. He squeezed some onto his hand and rubbed both hands together, before turning back to Allen. "There, happy?"

"I'd prefer it if you washed your hand with  _soap_ ," Allen mumbled, reaching into the cookie jar to take a piece of cookies, and when he pulled it out again, his hand brushed against Kanda's as it was reaching in. That was when he felt something in his stomach.

Allen blinked, not understanding what that was and dismissed it in favor of nibbling on his cookie. There weren't many left in the jar, since both of them had been failing to eat the cookies little by little like how Allen had wanted. So they might as well finish them now.

It was why he said nothing when Kanda sat down on his bed—because Allen was practically hugging the cookie jar with an arm—and for a while, they ate in silence. Allen tried going back to what he was reading but for some reason, he couldn't quite concentrate.

Soon, he noticed that there was only one cookie left in the jar, so he hurried and reached his hand into it but—Kanda had beaten him to it. Long, slender fingers already clamping the last of the cookies, before bringing it closer to a pair of thin lips and—

_Crunch._

Allen could only watch as the crunchy, delicious cookie met its demise in Kanda's mouth. "That was the  _last_  one," he whined.

Kanda raised an eyebrow at him, chewing the last bite of said cookie before responding with a simple, "So? You've eaten a lot of it."

Allen pouted. "Yes, but the last one always tastes best."

"You're not making sense," Kanda snorted, then his tongue slipped out between his lips to lick the crumbs around his mouth and—Allen couldn't help but stare as Kanda's tongue swiped against his soft lips and—

Kanda took it as Allen still mourning for the last cookie—wasn't he supposed to anyway?—so Kanda just sighed, leaned in, and pressed his lips against Allen's, surprising the younger boy in the process.

Well. Allen certainly didn't expect it. Then again, he shouldn't be all that surprised with how often they would just randomly kiss lately. Not that Allen minded, but—there it was again, the weird feeling in his stomach as Kanda started moving his lips, pressing them against Allen's own, letting him taste the crumbs left on Kanda's lips . The fluttering feeling grew as Kanda opened his mouth a little wider, allowing Allen to wander a little deeper and—there was a slightly unpleasant ache somewhere in his chest and—

Allen broke apart. Kanda threw him a questioning look, but Allen just put a hand over his stomach and made a face. "My stomach feels weird," he explained.

Again, Kanda snorted at him and stood up. "You had too much cookies," he answered in passing, walking over to his side of the room and putting his bag on his desk.

Allen  _hoped_  it was just as simple as that.

.

.

.

"It's called the butterfly in the stomach, you know," Lenalee said lightly and Allen choked on his soda.

He looked around, one hand blindly reaching for the box of tissue as he coughed, before pulling a sheet out to wipe his mouth with, then he spoke to the phone again, "But that's—"

"Not impossible, just so you know," she commented, and Allen could imagine her waving a dismissive hand. At Allen's stunned silence, she added, "What? It's a free country."

"That's not exactly the problem..."

"Oh? Then what is?"

"It's—" Allen started, turning his head to the phone a little as if he could glare at Lenalee through the device somehow, "There's just  _no way._  I mean...it's Kanda—"

"What about me?"

Allen jolted at the new voice, and he really nearly dropped his phone in surprise. There, at the door of their shared bedroom, stood Kanda with damp hair clinging to his face, framing the sharp lines of his physiognomy.

Allen told himself that his heart only skipped a beat due to the surprise of Kanda suddenly walking in when Allen was talking about him. "Why are you soaked?" he asked instead, trying to change the topic.

Kanda raised an eyebrow. "It's snowing," he replied, tilting his head to the window and—oh right. It was. They got a pretty late snow, huh. "Who the heck are you talking to?"

Allen turned his head back at the question. "Oh, umm. It's just Lena—"

"And?" his roommate stepped closer, leaning his face in front of Allen with narrowed eyes. "You were talking about  _me_  because?"

"I wasn't—" Kanda leaned even closer, and even through the slits of his eyes, Allen could see how dark Kanda's eyes were. "J-just saying you're a jerk!" he finally responded, face warming up more than necessary.

Kanda's frown deepened, so he leaned in to give Allen a headbutt hard enough to make Allen yelp and his forehead sting. With that, Kanda pulled back, dropped his bag on his desk before going back out of the room.

Allen just watched, one hand pressed over his stinging forehead whilst Lenalee  _giggled_. It was when he realized that he still had the phone pressed against his right ear, and...

And his stomach was fluttering.

Well,  _shit_.

.

.

.

Most of the time, Allen tried not to think about it—about what Lenalee called 'the butterfly in your stomach', because, wouldn't that indicate—no. No, no, he didn't want to go there. And besides, it was  _Kanda_ , the prick who acted like a five-year-old. A terribly good-looking five-year-old that kissed like a champ, but a five-year-old nonetheless.

He tried to focus on schoolwork instead. He had an exam coming up in a few weeks, and his assignments were mounting up that it wasn't even funny. He had music sheets to write, verses to complete and pieces to practice. Between trying to juggle all that, sometimes Allen could forget the weird feelings growing inside him towards a certain roommate.

That was only until Kanda came back to the dorm, though, because by then whatever that was in Allen's mind would come to a screeching halt as his eyes would automatically follow him.

Like now, he'd been busy trying to finish up the short piece that was due in two days when Kanda came back to their room. He watched as Kanda dropped his bag on the desk with less grace than usual—a sign that Kanda was tired and would probably be either in a worse mood than usual, or he'd be oddly quiet. His eyes followed the slender fingers as they carded into thick, black strands to pull at the hairband, freeing the long hair and letting it cascade down his back.

Then, Allen blinked, because—he did it again, didn't he? Staring at Kanda. He blamed Lenalee for this. It was because the girl was putting ideas into his head—

"What are you doing?"

Allen looked up, and suddenly, Kanda was already there, by his bed. "Wh-what?"

"You're zoning out, moron," Kanda clucked his tongue and, on a whim, roughly ruffled Allen's hair. "You do that a lot lately."

He did? Allen looked down, frowning at his worksheet. "I'm just tired."

A snort answered him. "Can't blame you," he sighed and—it was when that hand ruffled his hair again that Allen realized Kanda's hand was still there, in his hair. That realization also brought him to notice the mixed scent of paint and mint from Kanda's unbound hair, and his eyes traced up from the tips of raven strands, up the smooth texture of said hair, then up, up to Kanda's face—to his eyes, which were staring right back at him, and—

And they stayed like that, long enough for the atmosphere to turn awkward. Allen broke eye contact just as Kanda retracted his hand, leaving Allen feeling relieved but also missing the warmth already.

He didn't look up again even when Kanda walked back to his side of the room, keeping his eyes on the worksheet as if it was the most interesting sheet in existence. He didn't want to look at Kanda right now, because—

Allen glared down at his stomach, willing it to stop being so  _fluttery_.

.

.

.

Allen tapped his pencil against the wooden table as he tried to think of the song he was trying to compose. It turned out that the professor wanted them to write a lyric for the short piece that had been assigned before, and Allen had been struggling to think of what to write.

He knew the piece was not quite happy-sounding.

Leaning back against the wooden paneling on the wall, Allen stared up at the high ceiling of the lodge before closing his eyes. He'd been sitting there at the lodge since—what, eight p.m.? He had needed a change of atmosphere since locking himself in his room apparently didn't help much with the progress.

And Kanda wasn't there.

Allen figured his roommate would stay in the art studio until very late at night like he'd been doing for the past few days, so Allen had decided to go to the lodge for a change of air. The lodge was just by the diner area, with wooden tables and benches. Only one person had been in there when Allen came, occupying the other table. Generally, people prefer to sit in the diner area, so the lodge was perfect for Allen to be alone and mind his own business.

He'd been sitting there for—he'd lost count, but now he was alone at the lodge, and there was barely a soul in the adjoining diners.

He lifted his legs up to the bench and pulled his knees to his chest to help fight off the cold weather, even though he was already wearing his favorite thick sweater. The wooden bench felt a little cold on his butt, but it helped him concentrate and not doze off.

His eyes darted to the beige wall which was decorated with some block arts in the shape of staggered frames carved with floral designs. Then he glanced down at his sheet on the table again, eyes skimming the words that were already written on the paper. He wanted to bang his head against the nearest hard surface.

So he did; turning his head to the side to knock it against the wall once, twice and—

"...the hell, beansprout, did you finally lose it?"

Allen jolted at the sudden familiar voice, and his knees hit the table, making his pencil roll away and onto the floor. He immediately bent over to pick it up but—another hand beat him to it, and when he looked up, he was greeted by Kanda's frowning face.

Allen blinked. "I thought you'd still be in the studio."

"I'm done already. Do you even know what time it is?" Allen only blinked at him, and Kanda sighed. "It's almost midnight."

"Huh? Really?"

"Really," Kanda deadpanned and dropped himself on the bench next to Allen. He eyed the paper in front of Allen and snatched it before Allen could even blink. "What's this?"

"Hey, don't—" Allen tried to take it back, but Kanda just held it away from Allen, and started reading the half-written song.

Figuring it was too late to try and hide it, Allen just leaned back against the wall and pulled his legs back up and hugged his knees again, looking away. God, this was embarrassing. What was written there was practically his naked self bared in front of Kanda.

The lyrics were mostly about loneliness. A glance of an empty room where there used to be a presence of someone, causing a void in his heart. He leaned back against the wall on his side, hesitantly stealing a glance at Kanda as the latter squinted his eyes, trying to read in the rather dim lighting. Kanda's face was set in a curious frown. "This is..."

"Homework," Allen replied, resigned. Yes, he had to admit at least to himself that he mainly got the inspiration from how often he found himself sitting alone in their shared room without Kanda. And even if the song wasn't all about his roommate, it was the trigger to evoke Allen's memories on how it had always been before he moved into the dorm and had a roommate.

Back then, he was used to being all alone in the house that wasn't actually big, but still was too big for himself. Cross was mostly not at home, and there would be times when Allen would just sit there in the dark, reminiscing his memories on Mana and—that—every time he remembered those moments, it always felt like there was a hole labeled loneliness opening underneath him and swallowing him up, and—

Kanda snapped his fingers in front of Allen's face, jolting the boy out of his thoughts. "You're zoning out again," he sighed and put the paper back down on the table. "When do you have to submit this?"

Allen blinked, and he didn't know if he should be glad that it was the only thing Kanda asked. "Umm...in two days?"

Kanda hummed, before standing up and turning to Allen. "Then let's go back and get some sleep now. You can finish it later."

Allen looked up, and when he made no move to get off of the bench, Kanda frowned at him, motioning with his head to get up and go already. So he picked up his papers and pencil before standing up, trailing behind Kanda.

Kanda didn't have his backpack with him.

So did that mean... Kanda had gone back to their room and then went out again to  _look_  for him? That—that was just—

It was cheesy, maybe. Sappy, even, but the realization made warmth spread inside his chest and—and Kanda was just  _there_ , walking just slightly in front of him. A solid presence.

He was there, and Allen didn't feel so alone anymore.

Kanda turned his head and frowned, because apparently, Allen had halted in his tracks. He let out what looked like a long-suffering sigh, before just grabbing Allen's wrist and dragging him down the hallway and up the stairs at the corner. Allen could only watch, feeling the warm hand and the firm grip on his wrist and how his heart skipped a beat.

And his stomach? Allen didn't think he could call that 'fluttery' anymore, because it went beyond that. Allen groaned in what might be frustration. When Kanda threw him a weird look, he could only shake his head.

Damn, he  _really_  liked Kanda, didn't he?

.

.

.

"It's all your fault," Allen said accusingly, staring morosely at whatever he could see from his music sheet. The moonlight filtering in from the window wasn't all that bright, and Allen couldn't even see the lamps along the pathway he would usually see outside the window.

"What?" Kanda replied irately.

"It's. All. Your. Fault."

Kanda snapped. "Like the blackout's  _my_  fault. How can you prove that?"

"Well—I just can," the boy shot back, turning on his desk chair to face Kanda's general direction. Yes, he knew how  _childish_  he was sounding now, but he couldn't help himself. He was—frustrated, to say the least. "Now I can't get any work done, and even my keyboard needs to be  _plugged_ —"

"Doesn't that thing have batteries?"

"Yeah, but they needed to be replaced and I haven't bought the new ones," Allen almost wailed, burying his face in his hands. Yes, he knew Kanda didn't have anything to do with his keyboard being the older type or that the electricity was friggin'  _dead_  because of some fallen trees hitting the cable or how he still had to finalize his song for the assignment. But Kanda  _did_  have a role in making Allen unable to work on stuff properly. It was his fault that—

"And you're going to blame  _me_?"

"Yes."

Because Kanda had been invading his thoughts. Especially since the night Allen realized his feelings for his sorry excuse of a roommate. Kanda snorted, and even in the dark, Allen could see how his eyebrows met in an annoyed frown. Allen was the one who should be annoyed, dammit.

Kanda went on, obviously  _oblivious_  to Allen's inner turmoil. "That's the shittiest start to an argument—"

And before he knew it, Allen was crushing their lips together. He didn't even realize when he'd stood up from his chair and taken a couple of steps to Kanda's desk. What he  _did_ know was—that Kanda's lips were ironically soft compared to the words he spat out.

Kanda made a sound of protest, hand gripping Allen's shoulder in warning, but the boy only pressed harder against him, nudging his lips open with a tongue. Allen wondered if his stress showed in the way he kissed, because Kanda finally relented without that much of a fight.

So he slipped his tongue inside, his movement was clumsy, and—well, a little frustrated. His back and neck were starting to hurt too, because Kanda was still sitting there. He hadn't moved an inch and he probably wasn't going to. Allen could feel a crick forming on the back of his neck, so he tilted his head to alleviate some of the pain, and proceed to lower himself onto Kanda's lap.

He was only thankful that Kanda didn't shove him off right then and there.

But Kanda showed his resistance in the way his tongue pushed back against Allen's, trying to get it out of his mouth. Allen frowned and  _bit_  Kanda's lower lip. There. That seemed to do the trick for now, because Kanda released what might be a scoff through his nose and leaned back against his swivel chair.

The air was getting colder. With the power outage, the heater wasn't working, and Allen was the type who got chilled easily. Maybe he didn't even realize it when he pressed closer to Kanda, seeking the warmth provided by his body. Maybe Kanda also didn't quite notice that his arms were wrapped around Allen's smaller frame in a loose embrace.

On a whim, Allen opened his eyes. With their lips still pressed against each other, he could see how long Kanda's lashes were in the moonlight. Somehow he was glad to have perfected his night vision, so he could see the small details on Kanda's face—how  _relaxed_  he seemed to be when the kiss turned from fierce to a slow and chaste one and—

His stomach churned, heart beating twice, or maybe even three times its regular speed, and the aching in his chest grew.

Allen broke the kiss, panting and feeling his face hot—though in this darkness, he just  _hoped_ Kanda couldn't see how hard he was blushing. Or god forbid hear how loud his heart was thundering against his chest.

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking on their door before said door was thrown open with an excited-looking Michael bursting in. "Hey guys! I found—oh."

They both froze, eyes squinting as the light was directed right at their face, then down to their glued bodies and—oh no, oh bloody—

Allen really nearly jumped backwards, surprising Kanda who still had his arms around him. "What the fu—"

"It's not what you think!" Allen exclaimed, face flushed with embarrassment and—what, just  _what—_

Michael only laughed. "Naww, dun worry 'bout it. I have nothing against you two dating each other, really," he remarked lightheartedly, waving the hand with the flashlight and causing the spotlight to move up and down on the wall.

Allen's jaw dropped. "We're  _not_  dati—"

"Yeah right, dude. Ya can't fool me. S'fine, really. It's been going on for a while, right?" the brunette grinned, stretching his chubby, freckled cheeks. He took a step closer, revealing his hand holding an emergency lamp. "Anyway, I just came to say I found my emergency lamp, but Imma go out now, so ya lovebirds can borrow this, here."

He held out the small lamp with white light and Kanda accepted it, scowling all the while. "What  _birds_? We don't have  _wings_ , moron."

Allen threw Kanda an incredulous look, and Michael just laughed harder. "You do have wings," the brunette flapped his free hand, "S'called th' wings of love~"

"What the fu—"

"Aaaanyway. Gotta go now, so I'll leave you two alone, ta-ta!" And with that, Michael turned on his heels and walked out of the room, leaving the two roommates behind the closed door.

Well.

Kanda walked to the desk, putting the lamp right between the two wooden tables, and Allen followed his movement with his chrome eyes, again. There was just—something about the whole conversation with Michael that sounded wrong but also...

Also  _what_  exactly?

Shaking his head, Allen stepped closer to the desk. "I think we should share the lamp. You were still working on that sketch, right? I need to look over the music sheet for a bit," even if it was going to be kind of difficult without the keyboard. Maybe he should just tweak the lyrics for now. That should be doable.

Kanda just shrugged and pulled his chair up near the lamp, opening his sketchbook again. The way he went straight back to work was like—like nothing had happened. Like that kiss...didn't happen, and that—

Why the bloody  _hell_  should Allen think about that?

So Allen set to go back to work, grabbing his music sheet and pencil and pulling his chair up next to Kanda's. The emergency lamp wasn't all that big, so they had to sit close to each other if they wanted to share the light.

Trying to concentrate, Allen decided not to think about the way their knees touch, or the kiss earlier, or—or about something that was nagging at the far corner of his mind—

Oh. Right. Kanda didn't really deny the 'lovebirds' comment, did he?

.

.

.

Time ran past as if it was in a hurry, and before Allen knew it, exams rolled around. Allen really wanted to bang his head against his desk when he realized that not much of the lessons got absorbed into his brains due to  _other_ things forcing their ways into his head.

Like, for example, the lack of denial for the lovebirds comment.

Yeah, it didn't necessarily mean anything. For all he knew, Kanda might have just thought it was unnecessary to explain, since Michael was someone who was quick to judge, and once he had an assumption, it would be hard to convince him otherwise.

Yet his mind wouldn't listen to that reasoning and kept reminding Allen about it.

Another thing that was bothering him was the growing ache in his chest whenever they kissed. He only started paying attention to it recently, but he didn't want to think about  _why_  it was there.

He knew anyway.

So Allen tried not to kiss Kanda too much before the exam. It was easier to do, because both of them were busy studying anyway. Kanda didn't even suspect him of giving them both some space. Allen hoped he could concentrate more this way, and Kanda didn't even seem to notice the sudden distance.

Apparently, that didn't go too well.

It was the fourth exam, which happened to be his most difficult one of all. He'd spent the night trying to cram in everything he needed to learn into his head, until it was past midnight and Kanda had to drag him to bed because—Kanda claimed that Kanda himself  _needed some goddamn sleep_  and that he  _needed the lights off_. By that point, Allen couldn't really argue much because he had already felt like a zombie.

Now though, as he walked out of his class with a heavy weight on his shoulders, he  _wished_  he could have studied more.

Oh, he was so going to  _fail._

His steps were heavy as he walked out of the campus building, and even when his head was tilted down in a dispirited gesture, Allen barely noticed the snow-covered ground or the crunching sounds his shoes made with each step.

He refused to imagine the grades he was going to get for the semester, but his rather creative mind kept supplying him with not-so creative marks written with red ink and how Cross would react if he found out. That wasn't such a pleasant mental image, and he really wanted to bang his head against the nearest hard surface.

Allen wondered why he got that urge a lot lately.

"Bean sprout?"

Blinking, Allen raised his head and saw Kanda not far from where he was currently standing. Kanda was walking from the other building direction, and in a few long strides, he was now already standing in front of Allen, frowning.

"You look like shit."

Oh, he wasn't just  _looking_  like shit, alright? "Well what do you think?" Allen just suddenly ranted, "I just  _know_  I failed today's exam. And then yesterday I wasn't doing all that well either. And you know what? The professor didn't really like that assignment I worked so  _bloody_  hard on."

"Oi—"

"I don't even  _want_  to imagine Cross' reaction when he sees my grades. I wish he wouldn't care about them just like he never cares about  _me_ , but he cares! I just know that he only likes to rub it in my face and make me work like I'm some sort of a—" and he went on and on, at length and in unpleasant details. He didn't know why he was like this. Randomly ranting out wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but he couldn't quite control it. It was like something had snapped inside of him, probably due to his stress, and—and Kanda was  _just there_ , so. "—only because I can't  _focus_ , and I can't blame anyone but myself—eep!"

There was something cold and wet pressed against his cheek. And when he said cold, he meant  _cold_. "What—" he glanced at his left cheek's direction and found that Kanda had pressed a snowball against it. "What on earth are you  _doing_? It's cold!" Allen snarled, grabbing Kanda's wrist to pull it away from his face.

"That's exactly the point," Kanda deadpanned, "I'm cooling your stupid head."

"Wh—" but again, Allen didn't get to finish his words because the aforementioned snowball had been thrown at his face. It took him off guard, and he yelped loudly as the cold substance hit his skin. Once he got over the shock, Allen looked up and saw Kanda smirking down at him, looking far too smug for Allen's liking. "You—"

So it wasn't his fault if Allen bent down and quickly gathered the snow on the ground into his palm and made it into a ball, getting ready for a revenge, right? Kanda noticed this, so he moved away, but he didn't get very far when Allen threw it, and Kanda only managed to tilt his head a bit to the side when the snow collided with his cheek.

Freezing, Kanda slowly turned to Allen, eyes narrowing dangerously, making the smug grin on Allen's face falter. Then, Kanda quickly bent down to grab a handful of snow and fisted it as Allen was preparing to flee, then Kanda just  _threw_. The snowball zoomed in Allen's direction, scoring a hit at the back of the boy's head as Allen tried to escape.

Yelping, Allen turned on his heels and quickly swoop a handful of snow, and with a loud, "Take this!" he threw the snowball as hard as he could, hitting the side of Kanda's head this time.

Soon, they degenerated into loud, childish boys throwing snowballs and shouting at each other. It was when a stray shot hit an idle passerby that more people were involved in the fight. Before they knew it, many were throwing snowballs at them, and at each other. Both familiar and unfamiliar faces were now participating in the 'battle royal' the snowball fight had turned to be, there on the campus ground.

Allen didn't know how it turned into this, but he didn't mind even if he were hit by more snowballs than he would have liked. He didn't mind it all that much, especially when two snowballs randomly hit Kanda from two different directions, hitting his head and the back of his neck. Kanda growled menacingly, a string of curses leaving his thin lips as he started gathering snowballs and threw them left and right. The sight of snow piling on Kanda's head, shoulders, and even in his hair made Allen fall on his knees and laugh until his stomach hurt.

He was still laughing, even as Kanda tackled him and forced a handful of snow onto his face. But that didn't mean Allen wasn't going to fight back, because he was struggling, fisting snow from the ground beside him and pushing it onto Kanda's face. They kept like that, with Allen's legs kicking the air futilely.

The snow-covered ground was cold against his clothed back, and Kanda pressing the cold substance onto his face certainly didn't help the feeling. But there was warmth in his chest, and it spread when he saw the smug grin on Kanda's pretty face, and how he just suddenly  _pinched_  Allen's nose.

It surprised him, and Allen flailed his arms before trying to pull Kanda's hand away from his nose. But then Kanda let out what  _might_  be a chuckle, and it made Allen feel lighter, like the heavy weight on his shoulders was no more.

.

.

.

.

They were kissing.  _Again_.

Allen didn't quite remember how it started, but at least he knew that it happened after they'd gotten back to the dorm and out of their wet jackets due to the impromptu snowball fight. Other than that, Allen couldn't quite recall at the moment because the kiss was just  _a little_  too intense for its own good. Kanda was being particularly aggressive, and he took Allen's breath away. Literally.

Not that he minded, though. Because they hadn't kissed for a while, had they? Blame the mounting assignments and exams. Though he wished Kanda could be a little more gentle. There was not much he could do when he was pressed up against the door, really. He was only glad Kanda had enough sense not to press his back against the door handle. That would be painful.

Breathing through his nose was kind of difficult, but Allen had no choice because he didn't think Kanda was letting up anytime soon. He'd given up fighting Kanda's persistent tongue, though he still tried not to make too much noises at the way Kanda's tongue caressed the inside of his cheek, teased the underside of his tongue and slid up to tickle the roof of his mouth. It made Allen feel a little weak, so his hands involuntarily came up to Kanda's back and fisted his shirt.

He didn't quite notice when Kanda's hand had moved from trapping him against the door to merely settling on his hips.

The kiss finally broke for air, and Allen greedily inhaled the much-needed oxygen into his respiratory system. With flushed face and kiss-swollen lips, Allen was still struggling to breathe. The hands on Kanda's shirt twitched, tightening for a second before loosening again as the boy took a deep breath and exhaled, slowly, trying to return to his normal breathing pattern. His eyes weren't focused on anything but the general direction of the floor, but his head snapped up when Kanda squeezed his hip lightly.

"Out of breath already,  _brat_?" came the mocking voice, and Allen's eyebrows immediately met in a frown. Oh, he hated that smug look.

"I'm not..." He paused to take more air in, "...out of breath," he finished lamely, knowing how untrue his statement was but—he wasn't going to admit it.

Kanda smirked a little wider and leaned in closer, and Allen inched back out of reflex, until he could feel the back of his head pressed against the wooden door. "Really, now," he drawled— _drawled!_ —and leaned in even closer. When his roommate's hand came up to his cheek, Allen froze, and—

Kanda was kissing him again. This time, they were slower, more relaxed ones. Allen could still breathe in between the kisses, or sometimes, through his nose. This time, the kisses weren't as demanding, so Allen allowed himself to relax. But the boy couldn't deny that his heart skipped a beat when Kanda's hand brushed across his cheek and into his hair, before settling on the back of his head to help angle his face better.

There it was again. There was warmth spreading in his chest, while in his stomach, butterflies were erratically fluttering about and bumping against each other. It felt like his stomach was doing a flip-flop, really. Then, Kanda pressed harder, mouth working against Allen's own in a slow yet insistent movement.

The ache in his chest started growing as their bodies pressed against each other more. Slowly, he felt his chest tighten in an unpleasant way, nearly suffocating him, but Allen knew it wasn't the lack of air. And suddenly, Kanda's left hand crept up from his hip, slipping underneath his shirt and— _waitwaitwait what_ —

It wasn't because Kanda's cold hand felt icy against his warm skin, no. The surprise went beyond the physical touch itself—it was more like Allen didn't expect it to hurt so much.

It hurt too much to be  _nothing_.

So he shoved Kanda with both hands, surprising the older male as the kiss was violently broken.

"What—"

Allen's hands were still pressed against Kanda's chest, keeping him literally at an arm-length. He didn't dare looking up to Kanda's face. Heck, Allen didn't even know how  _his_  face looked like at the moment.

"...oi, beansprout?"

"...can't..." Allen croaked out through his constricted throat. He cleared his throat, willing his voice to work normally, before speaking up again. "Sorry, I can't... do this anymore."

That only served to make Kanda even more confused. He frowned deeper, especially when Allen made no move to raise his head and look him in the eye. Grabbing Allen's left wrist, Kanda tugged at it so that the boy would look at him, and asked, "Do what?"

Allen finally raised his head, daring himself to look Kanda in the eye. His mouth was open, but no words came out, so Allen cleared his throat and tried again. "This," he began, tugging his hand which was still in Kanda's grip, "I can't do this—I can't  _kiss_  you anymore."

There, he said it. Allen cast his eyes downward right afterward. Did Kanda get it? That he—

"Why?" at the question, Allen looked up again and—there was something in Kanda's face. Something else beside the utterly confused look in his eyes, but Allen couldn't really pinpoint what it was. "If it's about my touching you..."

"No," Allen shook his head. "No, it's not that..."

"Then  _why_?" Kanda was starting to sound a little frustrated and a lot baffled. Allen couldn't help smiling a little, albeit bitterly.

The hand that wasn't held hostage by Kanda fell limply to his side, and Allen tilted his head; that bitter smile still etched on his physiognomy. "Why do you think?" he asked back, but Kanda did nothing else but stare at him, silently demanding an answer. Allen let out a sigh, wiggling his hand free from Kanda's own, before finally answering, "Because, stupid,  _I like you_."

If this were any other situation, Kanda's dumbfounded face would have made Allen laugh. But as it was, it only added to the unpleasant throb in his chest.

"I'm going to shower," Allen informed in a small voice and walked past Kanda to the bathroom's direction, leaving Kanda staring at him in silence—probably still taking in what Allen had just said.

Allen didn't look back.

 

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, one more chapter to go, so please don't kill the boys yet! XD
> 
> I'll try to update around New Year. In the meantime, let me know your thoughts? :3
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	7. Things Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So are we going to talk about that before you leave?” Well. Of course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! Here is the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who has read and left kudos and comments, you are all awesome!
> 
> Special thanks for Mandy (Harmony283) for beta-reading this and for her continuous support even since the very first chapter.
> 
> Now I’m sure you can’t wait to read this, so I’ll shut up now and let you enjoy the chapter. :)
> 
> ETA: Now with awesome fanarts from boosify! :"D  
> (Original post: http://boosify.tumblr.com/post/136655166267)

 

**\- Things Left Unsaid -**

* * *

Avoiding Kanda wasn’t as easy as Allen thought it would be. Of course, them being roommates and all did not help either. He managed to kind of escape that night by pretending to go straight to sleep after showering, saying he was tired and sleepy and he needed to make up for all those nights staying up studying. Kanda hadn’t tried to bother him then, probably still too stunned by Allen’s sudden confession.

Thinking back, Allen kind of wanted to smack himself for even saying those—those _magical three words—_

“Oi.”

Allen nearly jumped out of his skin—hands freezing in the middle of putting his clothes into a large backpack. Slowly, he turned his head and put on his best blindingly fake smile. “Yes?” He thought he saw Kanda cringe.

Kanda’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms and glared at Allen’s backpack on the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Packing?” he offered sheepishly, though it only seemed to irked the older man further.

“Yeah, _why_? Are you—”

“I need to go back home for semester break, Kanda,” he tried to explain, implying that no, he wasn’t running away from Kanda or anything—except that it was exactly what he was doing. It was really lucky that the timing of his stupid confession was also when it was nearing winter break.

Kanda looked at him as if he knew what Allen was actually thinking, though, and Allen could only hope he wasn’t about to bring _that_ up again—

“So are we going to talk about _that_ before you leave?”

Well. Of course. Kanda had always been defying Allen’s expectations. When did he ever do what Allen wanted anyway?

Heaving a sigh, Allen turned around to face Kanda and dejectedly said, “Could you do me a favor and pretend it never happened?”

Allen really wished Kanda would cooperate this time. After all, wouldn’t it be easier for him too? But again, Kanda never did what Allen expected him to do.

He took one step closer to Allen, frowning down at him and bitingly said, “Aren’t you selfish, after saying things like ‘I like you’, now you want to pretend it didn’t happen? That _nothing_ ever happened?”

 _That_ did it.

“Wasn’t it you who said it didn’t mean anything?” he finally snapped, glaring at Kanda heatedly with emotions he failed to suppress. “You were the one who kept saying that and now you want _me_ to _talk_ about it? Grow some heart!”

 _Shit,_ Allen cursed himself inwardly as he caught sight of Kanda’s stunned face. He didn’t mean to say that—to imply Kanda was heartless. He knew it wasn’t true. He should be the one who knew how kind Kanda actually was.

Between them, the air was stiff. Only his heavy breath filled the otherwise deafening silence. Allen lowered his gaze to the floor, unable to look at Kanda’s face without feeling ashamed of himself.

He put the piece of clothing he was still holding into his backpack, before slowly walking towards the exit. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll—go cool my head.”

If Allen had looked back, he would have seen the pain—and something _else_ —making its way into a pair of dark eyes.

But Allen didn’t.

.

.

.

Being away from Kanda did not mean Allen could take his mind off of him. They had been roommates for almost half a year now, but it sure felt like forever. Allen felt like he had known Kanda so long that it felt weirder _not_ having him around.

Allen sighed with his chin propped up on one hand, flipping through the magazine he was holding just to have something to do.

Then, he heard a snort coming from the one-seater sofa to his left.

“Brat. You’ve been sighing hundreds of times since you’ve arrived,” his redheaded guardian commented, sipping to his nth glass of wine.

Allen lowered his eyes to the magazine he wasn’t really reading. “I have?” he tried to sound nonchalant. But of course, he wasn’t fooling anyone. Moreover, this was Cross.

Another snort from the older man. “Like a lovesick puppy.”

 _That_ made Allen’s cheeks heat up. He tried to camouflage it with a scowl, but it only earned him a chuckle.

“You know what, kid? Go outside. Buy some cake. It’s your fucking birthday. Stop pouting, you’re asking for bad luck.”

“Not pouting,” Allen tried to deny, but Cross just waved a hand and shooed him away. He tried not to puzzle over the somewhat kind tone Cross had used. Like he actually _cared_.

Heaving one last sigh, Allen stood up pushed himself off the couch and went to get his coat and wallet.

.

.

.

When Allen came back, he half-expected Cross to have disappeared again. But, no. He was still there, lounging on the couch. From the kitchen, came a mouth-watering smell that Allen was sure hadn’t been there when he left.

It turned out, Anita—the lady whom Allen suspected Cross would finally settle with, _soon_ , even though she was too good for him—had come to visit, bringing multiple Chinese dishes from the restaurant she owned.

 _Ah_ , Allen thought, _she’s really good for him._ She must be the reason Cross had softened up.

There was no Christmas tree in the house, nor were there any Christmas-y decorations. But the house was warm and their dining table was full of food. A paper bag adorned with a silver ribbon was handed to him by a smiling Anita, who then winked and whispered, “From Marian and I.”

There was a cream-colored woolen scarf with red pattern on each ends, and a matching pair of gloves.

Allen was, simply put, _happy._

Later that night, when his stomach was satisfied and the dishes were taken care of, Allen watched from the kitchen counter, how Cross and Anita were sitting on the couch, murmuring in low voices and smiling to themselves.

It put a smile on his face, too. This house finally felt like home.

And suddenly, Allen missed his small dorm room that had been his home for the past months, complete with the morbid decorations, the two pet goldfish and of course, one pretty prick of a roommate.

.

.

.

It was nearly midnight when Allen retreated to his bedroom. His eyes immediately fell on his phone, where he had left it to recharge. The screen was blinking, so Allen went to check his phone.

There were text messages and chats, mostly wishing him a happy birthday, but there was one name that immediately caught his attention.

Yuu Kanda.

_‘Hey. Happy birthday.’_

It was sent about an hour ago.

Allen sat on his bed, reading the three words over and over. A small, wistful smile graced his lips. His thumbs started dancing across the virtual keyboard on his screen, typing all sort of things including inquiries about Kanda’s Christmas and his plans for the holidays.

He typed ‘ _I miss you’_ at the end, and let it sit for a while.

Then, his thumb pressed the backspace button and erased everything. In the blank reply form, Allen typed a simple: ‘ _Thanks. Merry Christmas, have a good time with your family. :)_ _’_

.

.

.

Allen came back to the dorms two days before the new semester started. When he arrived, Kanda definitely did not expect the large jar of cookies thrust into his chest.

“Lenalee’s cookies,” Allen offered with a blinding smile Kanda was starting to hate. He was getting even more suspicious when the brat added, “All for you.”

Kanda gave Allen a deadpan look. “Really. Why?”                                                               

“Peace offering?” Allen’s smile turned sheepish now. “Ah, but please let me have some.”

Then, the boy proceeded to unpack his bag, humming a low tune Kanda recognized as the song Allen set as his ringtone.

Allen looked—normal. No traces of the outburst before he had left. Kanda couldn’t help but feel something was off.

It didn’t take long for him to notice what that was.

.

.

.

“He’s acting like nothing ever fucking happened,” Kanda hissed into the phone, frustrated. “It’s even more annoying _now_ than before—guh.”

“Dude. Chill.” Lavi’s voice responded from the other side of the phone. “You sound constipated it’s actually kinda hilarious.”

“Fuck off, Rabbit,” Kanda barked into the receiver. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this shit.”

“Because I asked?” there was clearly laughter in Lavi’s voice, and Kanda hated how the redhead sounded like he was really enjoying this. Kanda wished Lavi was here just so he could strangle the idiot to death. His mind derailed from that train of thought when Lavi asked, “So he’s completely avoiding the topic?”

Kanda heaved a heavy breath. “Yeah. Like the plague.”

The other end of the phone was silent for long seconds Kanda thought Lavi had fallen asleep or something. Then, he finally said, “You know, I’m more surprised that you actually _tried_ to talk about it at all.”

“Because the stupid bean is a complete moron.” Kanda pressed his lips into a thin line. “He should understand already—but he clearly _doesn’t._ ”

“Understand what, exactly?”

A vein popped in Kanda’s forehead. “Just because I don’t like to _label_ feelings, it doesn’t mean they aren’t fucking _there,_ ” he snapped. “And now he wouldn’t even _listen—_ ”

“Yuu,” Lavi’s voice sounded like a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s not a mind-reader. And after all ‘this doesn’t mean anything’ crap you threw at him? His reaction is completely normal. He’s just avoiding getting hurt, you know.”

Kanda fell silent at that. The memory of Allen’s face that night and his words, _‘Grow some heart!’_ rang in Kanda’s ears as if Allen was right there next to him.

As if Allen was really _hurt_.

“Tch,” he clucked his tongue weakly. “Why the hell do you even know about all this anyway?”

A small laugh was his answer. “I’ve got my sources,” Lavi said, and Kanda could imagine the rabbit trying to wink with his single eye.

He sighed. “So, what now?”

“Well,” Lavi started, sounding serious for once. “Even if you told him now, he probably wouldn’t believe you so easily, after everything.”

Kanda couldn’t help feeling that little prick somewhere in his chest, hearing that. He sighed into the receiver, then heard a soft chuckle in response. He frowned.

“Aww, Yuu,” the rabbit fucking cooed, and Kanda wanted to strangle him right then and then. “You know what, just try and convince him that he _doesn’t_ mean nothing. You suck at talking, so just. Do what you do best. Actions speak louder than words,” Lavi sing-sang, and Kanda couldn’t help but snort.

But he was right. If the brat didn’t want to talk, then he simply wouldn’t talk.

He’d just have to _show_ it.

.

.

.

Being away for a while—even if it was only a short time, Allen had almost forgotten what it was like to be jolted awake so early in the morning by the shrilly rock guitar sound Kanda had set as his alarm.

Groaning, Allen grabbed his aching head, before pushing himself up to a sitting position. He wanted to go back to sleep, really. But somehow, he felt like he shouldn’t. He remembered bits and pieces of his dream—not a very pleasant one, and though he hated to admit it, Kanda’s stupid alarm had actually saved him from what had been about to come in the dream—something he would rather not relive. Allen kinda missed all those times he had to work on assignments until ungodly hours so that his body would be dead tired and he would go to a dreamless sleep afterwards.

The shrilling noise stopped. Allen was vaguely aware of the movement from the bed across the room, and it was only a minute before he heard Kanda, with his sleep-latched voice, said, “What. You’re awake too.”

“And whose fault is that?” Allen retorted, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose to try and soothe his head.

“Shouldn’t you be getting used to it by now?” A soft snort, followed by a rustling sound—Kanda was getting out of bed, it seemed. There was a pause, and finally a tentative “You okay?”

Allen blinked a few times before pulling his blanket away. “Mhmm,” he hummed his response and slid his feet off the bed and onto the floor. “What time is it?”

“Five thirty,” Kanda informed shortly. Then, “Aren’t you going back to sleep?”

Allen let out a weak laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

He let his statement hung in the air. If it were anyone else, Allen was pretty sure he would get questioned by now. As expected of Kanda, though, he asked nothing.

Though he did not expect Kanda to just walk over to his side of the room. Allen looked up when he noticed his roommate was already standing in front of him. Kanda’s face was as impassive as ever when he said, “Do you want to come with me, then?”

.

.

.

The January morning air was more than a little bone-chilling. Allen could feel it hitting his face as he accelerated his pace to keep up with Kanda. Damn his long legs. While Allen was already feeling a little out of breath, Kanda showed no sign of slowing down. Did the guy get cold at all, he wondered.

Kanda seemed to notice Allen falling behind as he turned his head and let out a soft snort. Soft, but mocking, nonetheless. Allen frowned and jogged faster to catch up with Kanda.

“Wheezing already, brat?” Kanda teased as Allen came up to his left side.

Somehow, Allen managed to put and spit out a “Not. Wheezing.” Among his attempt to regulate his breathing. He really was getting out of shape. He rarely worked out ever since entering college.

Kanda merely smirked at his pathetic retort, and Allen hated what that _miniscule_ smirk did to his heart. Really.

Allen turned his eyes back to the track ahead. They were in a park not very far from the campus ground. The dorms actually provided a jogging track, but apparently, it wasn’t challenging enough for Kanda. It was a nice park, though the tall trees usually lush green were currently bared of their leaves. He probably wouldn’t mind as much if this wasn’t such an ungodly hour in winter. Allen wondered why he agreed to go jogging with Kanda in the first place.

Maybe because Kanda had never offered for Allen to go with him before, that Allen kinda had just nodded when Kanda _did_ ask this morning.

Maybe because he was curious as to what Kanda would normally be doing in the morning.

“Oi, sprout. Tired already?” Kanda asked over his shoulder, and Allen realized he was once again falling behind.

 “I’m fine,” he shouted, because it had only been 20 minutes or so.

Allen fixed the red knitted hat he was wearing and picked up his pace once again, feeling the cool breeze caressed his cheeks, watching Kanda moved so gracefully in front of him—watching his back was so close in front of him now, if Allen just reached out.

Kanda had slowed his pace, Allen noticed.

He was probably supposed to be offended, but now, Allen was just happy to be running side by side with Kanda.

_Maybe because he just wanted to be with Kanda._

Allen smiled bitterly to himself. Man, he was so hopeless.

.

.

.

They stopped by a 24/7 convenience store on their way back. Allen was so hungry after all the running. Unfortunately, just as he was ogling over a large beef sausage, Allen remembered that he didn’t bring any money.

Kanda noticed his growling stomach, mocked him for it, then proceeded to order three beef sausage hot dogs. He gave two to Allen without saying anything.

Kanda was being so kind even after everything, even after they were no longer—whatever they had been before Allen had one-sidedly decided to break it off.

It almost made Allen wanted to hope once again, but decided not to look too much into it, because, hey. Kanda had always been kind—despite being a prick most of the time—even way before all of this started.

It did not necessarily mean anything... did it?

.

.

.

“So, how’s life with ex-Prince Charming?”

Allen was only thankful Lenalee was speaking over the phone that he did not need to forcefully silence her for the remark. Still, it made him feel uneasy enough to double check and made sure Kanda had not arrived, before in a low voice, responded, “What ex-Prince Charming are you talking about?”

A soft chuckle was heard from the other side. “Oh, you know what I mean,” she teased. “Seriously, though. How is it? Did you guys talk yet?”

Allen walked from the dorm’s kitchen into his room and closed the door for good measure. That way, he would notice if Kanda was coming. He settled on his bed, leaning against the wall before finally responding to his best friend:

“There’s nothing to talk about, really.”

“Oh, don’t you give me that, Allen Walker,” Lenalee scolded, and Allen could imagine her face complete with that somewhat motherly frown she would often pull around him. Any minute now, she would probably going to give him a speech.

He needed to stop her before she even started. “It’s true, though. I already said what I had to say before the break. I told you about it, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and how you kind of just ran away afterwards? Sure, you did tell me.”

“Lenalee...”

“Did you at least let him _talk_?”

Allen had to stifle a laugh at that. “I can’t even imagine _that_ Kanda having a heart-to-heart talk.”

“In other word, you didn’t. Let him talk,” Lenalee deadpanned.

Allen sighed. “He didn’t even try—”

Wait. That wasn’t true. Kanda did try to talk about it, but—Allen didn’t let him, did he?

He ran away.

Though, Kanda had probably given up trying to get him to talk by now, judging by how Kanda never mentioned anything about it lately.

“Allen? You still there?”

 “Huh? Ah... Yes, yes. I’m here.”

Lenalee must have noticed his absent voice, for she went silent for a few seconds. It was like she was waiting for Allen to tell her what was on his mind, but since he said nothing, the girl continued, “Do you notice any change in his behavior?”

Allen blinked at the question. “Not really...” except the part that they no longer kiss each other. “He’s still his usual self. Treating me like nothing ever happened.”

“At your request,” she pointed out.

“You sound pissed, Lena.”

“Because you two are so...uuurrghh! Seriously I can’t believe you two,” she ranted. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly through the phone. “You know, Allen.”

“Yes?”

“Assumption. Don’t rely on it. Assuming things is stupid and dangerous and you boys need to just. Talk. For god’s sake.” A pause. “ _Both_ of you,” she added for good measure.

Allen could only laugh weakly at that.

“I thought I taught you better than this, Allen Walker. Mommy is sad.”

“Aww, mommy,” Allen chuckled, and continued in a babied voice, “I’m so sowwyy—”

_Creak._

Allen looked up at the sound of a door opening and found Kanda standing in the doorway, looking at him with half-frowning, half-amused face. Allen felt heat quickly rose up to his face. “Umm. It’s Lenalee,” he explained before Kanda even asked, because—

A snort. “Really. _Mommy_?”

Now, his face felt really hot. “Shut up. It’s an inside joke.”

“Oh, Kanda’s there?” Lenalee spoke again. “Well then, tell him I said hi. And don’t forget to talk! Bye, Allen!”

And before Allen could respond to any of that, the call was disconnected. Sighing, Allen pulled his phone away from his ear.

From his peripheral vision, he could see Kanda walking over to his desk, putting away his bag. “Lenalee said hi,” Allen told him.

Kanda turned to look at him, scoffing softly. “Mommy?”

Allen’s cheek heated up once more. “Let it go, will you?”

“Sure, sure.” A pause, followed by a smirk. Then, “Big baby.”

“BaKanda, you—“

Kanda was chuckling. Softly, almost inaudibly, but he was. Chuckling. Sort of. If his shaking shoulders were anything to go by.

It stopped as soon as Kanda realized Allen was staring, though. Kanda cleared his throat, then pulled something out of his jacket’s pocket.

He walked over to Allen’s bed and held his hand out. Confused, Allen looked down to Kanda’s hand and—his eyes widened. It was chocolate. Almond chocolate from a rather expensive brand that Kanda had bought him once before to indirectly apologize for eating Lenalee’s cookies.

This time though, Kanda didn’t throw it at him. “For you, Sprout. Take it,” Kanda said when was only looking at it dumbly.

“Uhh, thanks,” Allen hesitantly reached out and took the proffered chocolate from Kanda’s waiting hand. Then, he looked up. Meeting Kanda’s eyes with a confused look. “Umm, what’s the occasion?”

Because as far as he remembered, Kanda didn’t do anything which should make him feel guilty, this time around. Nothing was stolen. Allen’s stuff was intact, so why—

“Saw that when I dropped by the convenient store earlier. Thought you’d like some,” Kanda shrugged casually. When Allen continued to stare, he responded with a frown. “It’s just chocolate, _Moyashi_. I can’t buy stuff for you for no reason?”

“N-no, of course not. Uhh...” Allen stared at the chocolate in his hand, at Kanda’s still impassive face. “Thanks...”

Kanda simply grunt and—and _ruffled_ his hair. “Eat it,” he said, before turning on his heels and walked over to his desk and proceeded to mind his own business.

Allen looked at the chocolate in his hand, and suddenly remembered his conversation with Lenalee.

_‘Do you notice any change in his behavior?’_

No. This wasn’t a _change_ in behavior, was it? Even without the kisses, this was how Kanda would treat him usually—right?  Why didn’t he realize it before? And what did that mean—

Allen shook his head. _‘Don’t think too much about it’,_ he told himself.

Inside his head, a mini Lenalee started giving him a _speech_ about assumptions and talks and Allen dropped himself sideways until his head hit the pillow.

.

.

.

There was a point in Allen’s life where nightmares were almost a daily occurrence. It was a period of time Allen would rather not recall, and he had forgotten most of it, but from time to time, it came back to haunt him—as if to remind him that there was a part of his life that was far from sunshine and rainbows.

He would dream of a meadow. Vast and eerily silent. The wind which blew had no sound, but it left him feeling cold inside.

And then there was Mana. His first adoptive father. The one who taught him to love.

The one who died because of him.

Smoke. There was smoke everywhere. The stench of things burning. The feel of being enveloped in heat so great he couldn’t breathe.

_‘No.’_

He was burning. His left arm was burning.

_‘Help me...’_

And he couldn’t see—couldn’t find Mana.

_‘Mana, help me...’_

_‘Mana... Mana...!’_

“Oi, Beansprout!”

Allen gasped loudly as he jolted awake. For a moment, his chest felt so tight he thought he’d die from lack of oxygen. But then there were hands on both his cheeks, and a familiar face came into his blurring view.

“Bean Sprout,” Kanda tried again, slowly. “Can you hear me?”

 _Yes_ , Allen wanted to respond, but his throat felt so tight and his lips wouldn’t move. He tried to concentrate on maintaining his breathing and focusing his eyes.

He was met with a pair of dark, deeply concerned eyes.

“Allen,” Kanda tried again. The hands on his cheeks helped angling his face to focus on Kanda’s. “Are you awake now?”

His breathing had gradually returned to normal, and Allen was now able to see Kanda’s face so clearly he could make out the worried lines between those dark eyebrows.

“You called me by my name,” Allen commented, though his voice was still a little a raspy.

Kanda ‘s frown deepened at that, and the hands on his cheeks moved to pinch them instead. And pinched them _hard._ “That’s the first thing you have to say after scaring the hell out of me?”

“Aww—owwyyy,” Allen whined, and Kanda finally pulled his hands away. Allen’s own hand went up to rub at the abused cheeks. “You don’t need to pinch so hard.”

“Tch,” looked away as if trying to gain his own composure. “The hell was that all about?”

That was when Allen noticed the disheveled look on his roommate. Kanda’s hair was messy, falling over his shoulders and sticking out here and there. Like he jumped out of bed and right to his side—

“Umm, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Now, Kanda was glaring at him. “Who wouldn’t wake up if there’s someone in the room whimpering like they’re dying?”

Allen let out an awkwardly weak chuckle at Kanda’s words.

_Dying._

He had been—hadn’t he? Just moments ago. In his dream. He’d been dying—but he survived.

Mana did not.

“Oi.” Kanda waved a hand in front of his face, and Allen nearly jumped in surprise. He raised his eyes to meet Kanda—who didn’t bother to hide his concern. He must have looked really out of it, huh. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

Allen smiled sheepishly at that. “I’d rather not, actually.”

Because talking about it meant he had to remember—to relive and recite that moment. And he really would rather not.

Kanda looked like he was thinking about something, before finally stood up from Allen’s bed. “Okay, come with me then.”

“Huh?”

Before Allen could question further, Kanda grabbed his hand and tugged at it until he got out of bed, and proceeded to half-drag him out of the room.

He was brought to the kitchen. Kanda sat him down on the kitchen table, before going to rummage the cupboards. He could hear Kanda mumbling something along the line of ‘old man’ and ‘grocery’, before finally Kanda produced a box of something that looked like instant coffee or chocolate.

It was the latter, Allen found out, as Kanda started preparing two cups and picked another box of what he recognized as green tea. The sweet smell of chocolate wafted in the air, and before Allen knew it, he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the scent.

“I didn’t know you liked hot chocolate,” Allen commented idly.

“I don’t . I’m making myself some green tea.”

Allen blinked his eyes open. “Then why do you have it?”

Kanda scoffed as he walked to the kitchen table and set the cup of hot chocolate in front of Allen. “The old man bought it along with the grocery he sent me.”

A soft chuckle escaped Allen’s lips. “Lucky you, he must love you a lot.”

“Ugh. Don’t say it like that, it’s gross.”

“Seriously though,” Allen picked up the cup, sniffed at it, and then took a small sip. Warmth immediately flooded his throat and down his chest. “Thank you for this. I feel a lot better.”

“Good,” Kanda grunted softly and took a sip at his own tea.

Allen watched Kanda’s profile across of him. Long, dark tresses fell over one shoulder. Elegant fingers held the handle of his mug.

Then, he looked away, because—he really shouldn’t be looking at Kanda like this, should he?

“I had those too,” Kanda started, drawing Allen’s attention back to his now solemn face. “Back then. When I was a kid.”

“Had what?” Allen prompted gently.

“Nightmares,” Kanda replied curtly. A little awkwardly. “Old man would make some of those. Hot chocolate. Was too sweet for me even then, but it helped me sleep better after. So.”

And this—was probably the first time Kanda ever volunteered any information about himself. Allen couldn’t help feeling all warm and fuzzy—couldn’t fight the smile that forced its way to his lips at Kanda’s stilted voice.

“Thank you,” was all Allen could say. And it was not only for the hot chocolate. Allen made sure it was conveyed as he gazed softly into Kanda’s eyes.

It was almost cute the way Kanda averted his gaze afterwards. “I don’t need it anymore. You can have it. It’s in the right cupboard if you want some later.”

Allen knew he was stretching his luck when he said, “Oh, but I’d love it if you would make it for me next time too.”

He was only half-joking. He had only wanted to tease Kanda a little. So really, could he blame himself if he was surprised hearing Kanda’s respond: “Yeah, sure. Just let me know when you want some, next time.”

Kanda said like it was not a big deal. Like it was only _natural_ for him to do these things _for Allen_.

This, and all those little things Kanda did for him. Not only lately, but even from before... It made hope blossomed in his chest, and Allen really did not want to hope.

Nevertheless, his chest was warm.

.

.

.

Nearing February, Kanda often came home late, and when he did, he would be smelling of paint and sweat, looking tired and yet also kind of— _excited_. It really got Allen curious, because as far as he knew, _few_ things could get Kanda even remotely excited.

“The oil painting department is going to have a mini exhibition,” Kanda explained one day when Allen finally did ask about it. “We’re preparing that right now, so.”

“Cool. Will you have your paintings on display too?”

Kanda put down his sling bag on the coffee table in the living room and dropped himself in the sofa next to Allen. “Yeah, a couple of them.” He proceeded to crack his neck and shoulders, making Allen winced a little from the sound.

“That’s cool,” Allen commented. A small smile graced his lips seeing Kanda leaned back to the backrest and closed his eyes. “I’ll make you some tea,” Allen stood up before waiting for Kanda’s response and walked over to the pantry.

Allen was a tea-drinker. A habit Cross had often made fun of in regards of his British heritage. Though green tea wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, he’d seen Kanda enough time to know where he kept his tea and how to make it just the way Kanda would like it.

In a few minutes, Allen was back in the living room, bearing two cups of tea—green tea for Kanda and a cup of Jasmine tea for himself. Kanda grunted his thanks and took a slow sip of his tea, then sighed contently.

Well, now Allen knew he made the tea right.

“By the way, I’ve never seen your paintings before,” Allen inquired. “I mean... I’ve seen your sketches and designs, but never a painting... I really want to see them in person.”

Kanda turned his head to look at Allen, pondered for a moment, then, “Do you want to come to the exhibition?”

“I can?” Allen perked up immediately.

“Yeah. It’s open for the public. There will be entrance fee, but.” Kanda paused to set his cup down the table in favor of searching his bag. He produced what looked like a ticket and handed it to Allen. “My paintings will be on display, so I got some free tickets to give out.”

Allen eyed the ticket with sparkly eyes. “I’ll come! I’ll definitely come!” he replied excitedly and turned to look at Kanda.

He was about to say thank you, but the words died in his mouth when his eyes met with Kanda’s.

Kanda’s smile—small and gentle—kind of stole his breath for a moment there.

 

.

.

.

The art and music campus buildings stood across of each other, but Allen had never set foot on the art building before. It was always an unfamiliar territory for him. But even with his bad sense of direction, it wasn’t hard to find the Art Hall when there were tons of people heading in the same direction.

The gallery was not very big, but the clean and modern interior allowed the paintings displayed to be the center of attention. The paintings were arranged by theme and style. For the life of him, though, Allen couldn’t remember what style Kanda used in his painting, so he decided to just take his time and explore the gallery.

Twenty minutes into the exhibition, Allen’s eyes finally caught a large oil painting on canvas displayed towards the center of the gallery. Something in that painting called to him. Told him to come closer—it was a strange yet familiar feeling, so he walked closer.

“Do you like it?”

Allen turned his head at the new voice speaking to him from behind. His silver eyes met a pair of soft, grey eyes, wisdom hidden behind red-framed glasses. The man with frizzy hair smiled gently at him, and pointed with a tilt of his head to the name signed at the bottom corner of the painting.

_Yuu Kanda._

Allen’s eyes widened at that. “This is...”

It looked like a painting of a tree, with a black trunk and sleek branches, reaching out in all directions and taking up the upper half of the canvas. But instead of leaves, there was a burst of colors. Some were done in short, hard strokes, others shaped like circles of various sizes. The painting mainly used dark colors—blue, brown, black, with a touch of red and white. It felt almost like Allen was given a peek at Kanda’s mind. Cold. Dark. Mysterious. But there was definitely warmth and passion only a select few were privileged to see.

It almost brought Allen to tears for no apparent reason.

“If you’re touched by this, then you understand him well,” the elderly man spoke again. “It would seem that he has opened up to you.”

Before Allen could even respond, a new voice joined in. “You talk too much, old man.”

Allen directed his gaze to Kanda, who just came up beside Tiedoll and giving the elderly man a half-hearted glare. Tiedoll just laughed at that. He turned to Allen and said, “Well, you must excuse me, I should attend to other businesses. Please enjoy your visit.”

Allen watched until Tiedoll’s back disappeared from sight. “That was Froi Tiedoll... right? I looked him up before. We have a couple of his paintings at home. Well they’re Cross’ but. I love those. I know he teaches here, but. Wow.”

“You’re a fan or something?” Kanda smiled teasingly, but there was a certain fondness to it. And a little bit of pride, if Allen wasn’t mistaken. Kanda must have respected the man a lot.

“I love yours too, though. Do you have more on display?”

“Right next to it,” Kanda gestured with his hand to Allen’s left, where a slightly smaller black-and-white piece was hanging on the wall.

The second painting had a different atmosphere, yet it took Allen’s breath away all the same. It was pure black and white, depicting a pair of hands from the top view, over black and white piano keys. The right hand was white, but the left one was black and slightly bigger in size. And while the right hand was solid, the left hand looked like it withered away on its left side into tons of black musical notes which danced into the air.

Allen felt a sense of connection with this piece more so than the others. Especially considering how his own left hand was rather—different. Though Kanda never asked despite having seen it many times.

“Hey,” Allen started softly without tearing his gaze away from the painting. “This is...”

The question hung in the air, but one glance at Kanda and Allen knew his roommate caught on to what he really wanted to ask.

He did not expect, however, for Kanda to look him squarely in the eye and said, “I only draw and paint what’s on my mind.”

Those words. Kanda’s look. The date on the painting which stated it was completed sometime around the semester break. Not to mention how Kanda had been behaving lately...Try as he might not to jump to his own conclusions, Allen couldn’t help but feel like Kanda was trying to tell him something.

 _‘Did you at least let him talk?’_ Lenalee’s question danced inside his head.

He didn’t let Kanda talk, did he? So was this...

Was this Kanda’s way of... conveying his feelings?

.

.

.

That night, Allen went back to the dorm ahead of Kanda since the latter needed to stay and help clean up after the mini exhibition was done. On the way back, all he could think about was Kanda’s paintings and the feelings they had evoked inside of him.

The messages behind them that Kanda was probably trying to get across.

 _‘He’s opened up to you.’_ Tiedoll’s words rang in his ears.

_‘I only draw and paint what’s on my mind.’_

Allen was sure that the idea behind the second painting was—Allen himself. Kanda didn’t say it, but he didn’t deny it either. So what did that mean?

Too caught up in his thoughts, Allen had reached the dorms before he knew it. The shared living quarter was empty—Michael had probably gone off somewhere again. It was all good, though. Now Allen had all the time and space he needed to collect his thoughts. To recount every single thing that had happened—every word that had come out of Kanda’s mouth.

Was he trying to tell him something?

After changing into lighter clothing, Allen went to the pantry to make himself some tea to help sooth his mind. After all, he had a lot of thinking to do. It was then that he noticed the sketchbook lying on Kanda’s desk.  He contemplated for a moment, before deciding to follow his urge to look through it.

Taking a seat on his roommate’s bed, Allen started flipping through the sketchbook. One page after another, a small smile slowly crept up on his face. Kanda liked to draw random objects in his sketch book. Sometimes they were rough sketches of the scenery around campus. Sometimes, it was as simple as a drawing of a cup of coffee. There was even a sketch of Timcanpy and Golem swimming merrily inside their fish bowl. But these drawings were always lacking people.

Which was why, Allen was surprised to find a sketch of himself among the otherwise people-less drawings.

There were a total five pencil sketches of Allen in Kanda’s sketchbook. Some were only his face—when he smiled, when he laughed, and one with an absent-minded look. The others were of Allen doing something—bent over his desk with his keyboard and another with him asleep messily with paper strewn all over his bed.

_‘When did Kanda even—?’_

One of the sketches dated back sometime during their ambiguous non-relationship.

_“I only draw and paint what’s on my mind.”_

There were a lot of things whirling in Allen’s head—questions he badly wanted answers to. Allen flipped through the pages of the sketchbook again, as if all his answers were there but—

This was something only Kanda could answer.

This was—Allen traced the sketch of himself asleep among the papers that had been his homework—something Kanda was probably trying to tell him all along.

He needed to stop running away.

.

.

.

The room was dim when Kanda came back from the exhibition much later that night. The only source of light was the reading lamp on his desk. Kanda found Allen asleep on _his_ bed, with _his_ sketchbook lying open next to the pillow. The page was opened to a sketch Kanda remembered drawing during the time the brat was so exhausted from his homework Kanda kind of didn’t want to wake him up.

So he had sketched him instead. At that time. Because he had nothing else to do.

It was almost funny how Allen wassleeping—curled up in a position much like the drawing next to his face. He tried not to think of how he felt knowing Allen had found his sketches of the bean.

Slowly, Kanda approached Allen’s sleeping form, meaning to take the sketchbook away and probably wake the bean up and tell him to sleep in his own bed. As soon as his hand reached out, though, Allen’s eyes suddenly blinked open and stared straight to his own dark eyes. Kanda’s heart nearly stopped in surprise.

“Tch,” Kanda clicked his tongue and continued to reach out for his sketchbook. “If you were awake you could have said something.”

He was about to take said book when Allen’s fingers circled around Kanda’s wrist. Eyes still locked on his own. “Hey, about the sketches...”

Kanda fell silent, but met his gaze nonetheless. Then, when Allen continued to just stare at him, he challenged, “What about them?”

The fingers around Kanda’s wrist twitched slightly as those silver eyes wavered for a second. But then a look of steely determination crossed over Allen’s face and he asked, “Do they—also mean nothing?”

Silence fell upon them again as Kanda chose to simply look Allen in the eye instead of giving a verbal answer. They stalled for a few more seconds, before Kanda finally replied, “I stopped saying that a while ago, didn’t I? Do I have to spell everything out for you?”

Because really, the Stupid Sprout should know better. Kanda conveniently ignored the fact that he himself probably made the situation worse by not being clear in the first place.

Then suddenly, Allen was chuckling. He released Kanda’s wrist in favor of pushing himself up to a sitting position and dropping his feet to the side of the bed, before grabbing Kanda’s hand once more and tugging until Kanda was sitting down next to him. “Of course you do, BaKanda! I hope you know I don’t have the ability to read minds.”

Kanda simply snorted at the comment. He might not have anything _sweet_ to tell the bean—he could feel himself inwardly gagging at the idea of having to say those mushy words—but Kanda did know he needed to confirm his feelings for Allen.

So he maneuvered his hand to twine their fingers together, looked Allen in the eye and asked:

“So can I kiss you now or what?”

Allen blinked once, then twice before his lips stretched and started to tremble—and finally, the boy laughed. And laughed. And said, “You’re such a hopeless dork.”

Then, he leaned forward and closed the distance by landing a soft yet firm kiss on Kanda’s waiting lips.

When Kanda kissed back, Allen finally understood. They did not need to name these feelings. No need for labels.

They belonged together.

And that was all that mattered.

—END—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… This might not turn out like you expected, but I do hope it did not disappoint. To tell you the truth, I am very nervous about this chapter, so I would really appreciate it if you could tell me what you think of it? :”D
> 
> Also, now that this is ending and DGM is getting a new anime season, I will probably be more active in this fandom, so I hope you would continue to enjoy my future works as well. For a starter, I would start focusing on continuing my other Yullen WIP: [The Walk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/479874). I am expecting to post a new chapter soon.
> 
> Once again, thank you for supporting me and my works! 
> 
> Cheers!  
> Ai

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Will update in a week or two. Comments would be much appreciated. :)


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